Margaret Fuller
Margaret Fuller
Sarah Margaret Fuller Ossoli, commonly known as Margaret Fuller, was an American journalist, critic, and women's rights advocate associated with the American transcendentalism movement. She was the first full-time American female book reviewer in journalism. Her book Woman in the Nineteenth Century is considered the first major feminist work in the United States...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionActivist
Date of Birth23 May 1810
CityCambridge, MA
CountryUnited States of America
This is the method of genius, to ripen fruit for the crowd by those rays of whose heat they complain.
Woman is born for love, and it is impossible to turn her from seeking it.
Our friends should be our incentives to right, but not only our guiding, but our prophetic, stars. To love by right is much, to love by faith is more; both are the entire love, without which heart, mind, and soul cannot be alike satisfied. We love and ought to love one another, not merely for the absolute worth of each, but on account of a mutual fitness of temporary character.
There is some danger lest there be no real religion in the heart which craves too much daily sympathy.
Be what you would seem to be.
Some degree of expression is necessary for growth, but it should be little in proportion to the full life.
Life is richly worth living, with its continual revelations of mighty woe, yet infinite hope; and I take it to my breast.
Everywhere the fatal spirit of imitation, of reference to European standards, penetrates and threatens to blight whatever of original growth might adorn the soil.
... the Power who gave a power, by its mere existence, signifies that it must be brought out towards perfection.
Preparations are good in life, prologues ruinous.
The persons whom you have idolized can never, in the end, be ungrateful, and, probably, at the time of retreat they still do justice to your heart. But, so long as you must draw persons too near you, a temporary recoil is sure to follow. It is the character striving to defend itself from a heating and suffocating action upon it.
Spirits that have once been sincerely united and tended together a sacred flame, never become entirely stranger to one another's life.
I stand in the sunny noon of life. Objects no longer glitter in the dews of morning, neither are yet softened by the shadows of evening.
Tragedy is always a mistake; and the loneliness of the deepest thinker, the widest lover, ceases to be pathetic to us so soon as the sun is high enough above the mountains.