Robert Nathan > Quotes

“What is it which makes a man and a woman know that they, of all other men and women in the world, belong to each other? Is it no more than chance and meeting? no more than being alive together in the world at the same time? Is it only a curve of the throat, a line of the chin, the way the eyes are set, a way of speaking? Or is it something deeper and stranger, something beyond meeting, something beyond chance and fortune? Are there others, in other times of the world, whom we should have loved, who would have loved us? Is there, perhaps, one soul among all others--among all who have lived, the endless generations, from world's end to world's end--who must love us or die? And whom we must love, in turn--whom we must seek all our lives long--headlong and homesick--until the end?”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“There is no distance on this earth as far away as yesterday.”
― Robert Nathan

“Where I come from
Nobody knows;
And where I'm going
Everything goes.
The wind blows,
The sea flows -
And nobody knows.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“How little we have, I thought, between us and the waiting cold, the mystery, death--a strip of beach, a hill, a few walls of wood or stone, a little fire--and tomorrow's sun, rising and warming us, tomorrow's hope of peace and better weather . . . What if tomorrow vanished in the storm? What if time stood still? And yesterday--if once we lost our way, blundered in the storm--would we find yesterday again ahead of us, where we had thought tomorrow's sun would rise?”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“She has a look," I said, "of not altogether belonging to today.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Give thanks for sorrow that teaches you pity; for pain that teaches you courage - and give exceeding thanks for the mystery which remains a mystery still - the veil that hides you from the infinite, which makes it possible for you to believe in what you cannot see.”
― Robert Nathan

“What trouble we go to, trying to fool people who see right through us anyhow.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Yellow is the true color of spring, not green; the new grass, the clouds, the misty, sunny air, the sticky buds like little feathers on the trees, all are mixed with yellow tone, with the haze of sun and earth and water. Green is for summer; blue, for fall.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Art is a communication informing man of his own dignity, and of the value of his life, whether in joy or grief, whether in laughter or indignation, beauty or terror...Man needs the comfort of his own dignity...And that's what the artisf is for. To give him that comfort.”
― Robert Nathan

“ONE must sometimes believe what one cannot understand. That is the method of the scientist as well as the mystic: faced with a universe which must be endless and infinite, he accepts it, although he cannot really imagine it. For there is no picture in our minds of infinity; somewhere, at the furthermost limits of thought, we never fail to plot its end. Yet—if there is no end? Or if, at the end, we are only back at the beginning again?”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Summer is the worst time of all to be alone. The earth is warm and lovely, free to go about in; and always somewhere in the distance there is a place where two people might be happy if only they were together. It is in the spring that one dreams of such places; one thinks of the summer which is coming, and the heart dreams of its friend.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“She was named Juliet, after his wife, the bishop thought, but that was not what Julia meant at all. She was far too modest to think of calling her child after herself. Juliet, for her, was the name of that young girl of Verona whose tragic love has everywhere helped make youth and sorrow better friends.”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“Sonnet

I am no stranger in the house of pain;
I am familiar with its every part,
From the low stile, then up the crooked lane
To the dark doorway, intimate to my heart.
Here did I sit with grief and eat his bread,
Here was I welcomed as misfortune’s guest,
And there’s no room but where I’ve laid my head
On misery’s accomodating breast.
So, sorrow, does my knocking rouse you up?
Open the door, old mother; it is I.
Bring grief’s good goblet out, the sad, sweet cup;
Fill it with wine of silence, strong and dry.
For I’ve a story to amuse your ears,
Of youth and hope, of middle age and tears.”
― Robert Nathan

“My duties led me into the darkest cellars as well as the most beautiful cathedrals; often I found the cellar illuminated with a holy light, and the cathedral dark.”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“Once upon a time, not so very long ago, men thought that the earth was flat, and that where earth and heaven met, the world ended. Yet when they finally set sail for that tremendous place, they sailed right through it, and found themselves back again where they had started from. It taught them only that the earth was round.

It might have taught them more.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“It seems to me that I have always wanted to say the same thing in my books: that life is one, that mystery is all around us, that yeterday, today and tomorrow are all spread out in the pattern of eternity, together, and that although love may wear many faces in the incomprehensible panorama of time, in the heart that loves, it is always the same.”
― Robert Nathan

“How little we have, I thought, between us and the waiting cold, the mystery, death—a strip of beach, a hill, a few walls of wood or stone, a little fire—and tomorrow’s sun, rising and warming us, tomorrow’s hope of peace and better weather”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“For friends and lovers are quick to wound, quicker than strangers, even; the heart that opens itself to the world, opens itself to sorrow.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“No, my friend; if I do not turn Christian like so many others, it is not because of the religious practices. It is because I do not want my grandchildren to hate the Jews. There is too much hate in the world as it is; in this country it flourishes like the weed. Here even the poets hate one another. Very well, I stay a Jew, I do not go over on the side of the haters. I do not buy my way up, so that I too, can spit down on my people. Do you think I love the Jews so much? How can I tell, when I am one? But I am sick of those who hate them, because I am sick of hate. What we need is more politeness in the world. Let people shake hands and say, Come in.”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“I grieve for your grandparents,” continued Michael. “But after all, that was in another land, and in a different time. I need not point out to you the advantages of the Church to this country in which you operate. It is the Church which saves the home, by confronting with a determined mien the practices of immorality. The home, following the Church, conforms to design, and consists of the father, the mother, and the child. That home, Mr. Cohen, furnishes the basis for your credit in the markets of the world. The father produces, the mother buys, the child consumes. I ask you: can you do without it? Do you wish to see this country sunk in wickedness, the father drunk, the mother divorced, the child debauched? Would you like to see the mills idle, the mines closed, the farms overgrown with weeds?”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“These differences were of a practical nature. That is to say people were not obliged to suffer discomfort any longer. As a matter of fact, the entire country groaned with comfort, although it had not yet reached its full development. This gave rise to an extraordinary state of mind. At the moment that whole cities were being torn down in order to make room for something larger, it was generally conceded that everything was perfect. So it was possible to admire the country’s perfection, and at the same time to assist in its improvement.”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“I'm thinking how beautiful the world is, Eben; and how it keeps on being beautiful--no matter what happens to us. The spring comes year after year, for us, or Egypt; the sun goes down in the same green, lovely sky; the birds sing...for us, or yesterday...or for yesterday...or for tomorrow. It was never made for anything but beauty, Eben--whether we lived now, or long ago.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“We think of God, we think of the mystery of the universe, but we do not think about it very much, and we do not really believe that it is a mystery, or that we could not understand it if it were explained to us. Perhaps that is because when all is said and done, we do not really believe in God. In our hearts, we are convinced that it is our world, not His.
How stupid of us. Yet we are created stupid—innocent and ignorant; and it is this ignorance alone which makes it possible for us to live on this earth, in comfort, among the mysteries. Since we do not know, and cannot guess, we need not bother our heads too much to understand. It is innocence which wakes us each morning to a new day, a fresh day, another day in a long chain of days; it is ignorance which makes each of our acts appear to be a new one, and the result of an exercise of will. Without such ignorance, we should perish of terror, frozen and immobile; or, like the old saints who learned the true name of God, go up in a blaze of unbearable vision.”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Here is a world without joy and without hope. But it does not frighten me because I do not believe it.”
― Robert Nathan, Winter In April

“I don't think I care very much about being rich, Jennie. I just want to paint--and to know what I'm painting. That's what's so hard--to know what you're painting; to reach to something beyond these little, bitter times...”
― Robert Nathan, Portrait of Jennie

“Granville mangiò con metodo, il pensiero apparentemente rivolto ancora al passato che le mie domande gli avevano fatto rivivere. «Un uomo viene ricordato spesso», disse riflettendo, «più per come ha vissuto – o è morto – che per quello che ha scritto. Oppure, si trasforma nelle sue opere: Cervantes è diventato Don Chisciotte, Byron è diventato Don Juan. E Hemingway l’uomo forte e senza paura, e Scott Fitzgerald per sempre giovane e bellissimo».
«E dannato?», osai.
«Sì», rispose. «Ma risorto».
Proseguì spiegando che ogni scrittore, dopo la morte, va in un limbo in cui aspetta o che la sua opera sia riportata alla luce, oppure che sia dimenticata per sempre. «Alcuni», disse, «risvegliati dagli amici o da qualche studioso, vivono una seconda esistenza, per poi ricadere nell’oscurità, e questa è la vera morte a cui non segue resurrezione. Altri rimangono in attesa nelle tenebre, e aspettano invano, e alla fine scompaiono in una nota d’appendice. Ma altri ancora, come Shelley, brillano più che quando erano in vita.
Naturalmente, esistono delle eccezioni. Goethe non si è mai eclissato: come figura letteraria non è mai morto. È stato venerato in vita, e ancora è compreso nel novero degli immortali, divini, riveriti, e antisemiti. Non si può parlare con certezza dei Greci e dei Romani, perché ci si è messo di mezzo il Medioevo, quando tutta la conoscenza era concentrata nelle mani della Chiesa, e non si sapeva niente di certo se non che la terra era piatta. Quanto ai candidati di oggi, è ancora troppo presto per dirlo; e inoltre, ce ne sono troppi… Ogni anno, i critici prendono un ragazzo nuovo sul capo del quale pongono la corona d’alloro, per quanto mi riguarda ciascuno più sconosciuto del precedente. E il poeta laureato dell’anno prima scompare nella storia, insieme a Whittier, e a William Vaughan Moody».”
― Robert Nathan, Stonecliff

“have not lived through Genesis, Exodus, Deuteronomy, and the thirty-nine books of the Old Testament for nothing; not to mention the twenty-seven books of the New Testament from Matthew to Revelation, the Apocrypha, the Talmud, the Code of Justinian, the Augsburg Confession, and modern Exegesis. … It has been a stirring experience. But you cannot expect me, after being present at the Garden of Gethsemane, to trouble myself with problems of transubstantiation. … Or can you?”
― Robert Nathan, The Bishop's Wife

“Beauty is ever to the lonely mind A shadow fleeting; she is never plain. She is a visitor who leaves behind The gift of grief, the souvenir of pain.”
― Robert Nathan

“I thought how small and mortal and defenseless was man, how short-lived his youth, how uncertain his joy … how he is hurried through a narrow space called time, unable to turn or to retrace his steps — unable to look ahead or behind, seeing nothing, except what is under his nose — uncertain even if what he sees is what it seems to be. For the great pattern of the suns is repeated over and over again, in a blade of grass or in a drop of water; to the spider or the ant, man is as incomprehensible as God. How meager and meaningless the life of a beetle seems to us; how pitiful our own may seem to some undreamed-of power.”
― Robert Nathan, Long After Summer

“Jot and Johanna were dancing; they were young, and their hearts were full of innocence and wonder. They were no more than children, but they were in love, with life, and with the world, and with each other. They saw only their own bright youth; they could not look ahead to age or death. Now, for them, the summer would never end; they did not even look ahead to fall. I envied them; and at the same time, I felt sorry for them because they would never again be so young, so happy, and so beautiful.”
― Robert Nathan, Long After Summer