It [the scarlet letter] had the effect of a spell, taking her out of the ordinary relations with humanity, and enclosing her in a sphere by herself.

Mountains are earth's undecaying monuments.

She had wandered, without rule or guidance, into a moral wilderness... Her intellect and heart had their home, as it were, in desert places, where she roamed as freely as the wild Indian in his woods... The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread. Shame, Despair, Solitude! These had been her teachers—stern and wild ones—and they had made her strong, but taught her much amiss.

We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death.

No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.

Articulate words are a harsh clamor and dissonance. When man arrives at his highest perfection, he will again be dumb.

Earth has one angel less and heaven one more, since yesterday.