Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804–1864) was an American writer from Salem, Massachusetts. In his tale The Great Carbuncle, people with very different wishes set out for the White Mountains. The young couple Matthew and Hannah hope the fabled stone will light their little house.[1]
At the mountain lake the couple could at last look straight at the gem. Hawthorne first turns their eyes on one another. They see the red of their cheeks, then the same colour on the water, the rocks and even the mist. What should be most familiar, the face of the person beside them, suddenly looks strange.[1]
They seemed changed to one another’s eyes, in the red brilliancy that flamed upon their cheeks, while it lent the same fire to the lake, the rocks, and sky, and to the mists which had rolled back before its power.[1]
At home nothing would escape that brilliance. As Matthew and Hannah imagine their life together under its unceasing glare, the prize begins to lose its attraction. Their decision to leave the stone on the mountain carries weight because of that moment by the lake. They have seen what it can do.[1]
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The whole magistery takes place in one vessel, and with one fire, viz., the dry and moist elementary fire of the matter […]
Edward Kelley (1555 – c. 1597)
The Theatre of Terrestrial Astronomy · XII · 1893 · p. 142
Attributed to Kelley · translation by A. E. Waite · excerpt
So hills and valleys into singing break; And though poor stones have neither speech nor tongue, While active winds and streams both run and speak, Yet stones are deep in admiration.
Henry Vaughan (1621/22–1695)
Silex Scintillans · The Bird · 1896 · p. 207
English text of the 1896 edition
I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, […]
Walt Whitman (1819–1892)
Leaves of Grass · Song of Myself, § 31 · 1891–92 · p. 54
English text · opening line of the stanza
What infinite melancholy there is in these ancient stones, full of rust and gold!
Federico García Lorca (1898–1936)
Impresiones y paisajes · Baeza, II · 1918 · p. 135
Our translation from Spanish
I always wore his eyes in my ring, angry, veiled stones; my gestures grew hard.
Else Lasker-Schüler (1869–1945)
Briefe und Bilder · Die Aktion, 3. Jg., Nr. 42 · 1913 · col. 993
Our translation from German
The longer he looked, the more it seemed to him that the image was slowly opening its soulful eyes, that its lips would move in greeting, that life was blossoming up through its beautiful limbs, warming them like a lovely song.
Such a stone, being conscious merely of its own endeavour and not at all indifferent, would believe itself to be completely free, and would think that it continued in motion solely because of its own wish.
Baruch de Spinoza (1632–1677)
Letter on freedom and necessity · Letter LXII · 1898 · p. 390
Translation by R. H. M. Elwes · excerpt
With these thoughts I draw near to you, oldest and worthiest monuments of time.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
Goethes Werke, II. Abteilung, Band 9 · p. 173
Our translation
The jewels came to life, the fossils began to move; the wondrous Pyrosmalite and the Almandine flashed in the light of the miner's candles; the Rock-Crystals glittered, and darted their rays.
E. T. A. Hoffmann (1776–1822)
The Serapion Brethren, volume I · p. 188
Translated by Alexander Ewing
In an amber-drop the bee lies hid and lightens, so that it seems to be shut in its native sweets.
Martial (c. 40–c. 104)
Martial, Epigrams, volume I · p. 252–253
Translated by Walter C. A. Ker · Excerpt
Painters vie to copy the sweep of the snow-white waves. In the work of heaven no trace of the thunder axe is seen.
Make me a watcher of your open spaces, make me one who listens at the stone,
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