¨More than once, Mr. Dimmesdale had gone into the pulpit, with a purpose never come down its steps until he should have spoken words like the above. More than once, he had cleared his throat and drawn in the long, deep, and tremulous breath, which, when sent fourth again, would come burdened with the black secret of his soul.¨
"He kept vigils, likewise, night after night, sometimes in utter darkness; sometimes with a glimmering lamp; and sometimes, viewing his own face in a looking glass, by the most powerful light which he could throw upon it."
"None of these visions ever quite deluded him. At any moment, by an effort of his will, he could discern substances through their misty lack of substance, and convince himself that they were not solid in their nature, like yonder table of carved oak, or that big, square, leathern-bound and brazen-clasped volume of divinity."