99+ Stephen Crane Quotes on Bitterness, Existence and Civil war - Quotes.pub

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LCVI If I should cast off this tattered coat, And go free into the mighty sky; If I should find nothing there But a bast blue, Echoless, ignorant,- What then?

Nature did not seem cruel to him then, nor kind, nor dangerous, nor wise. But she was not interested, completely not interested.

If You Ain’t Afraid, Go Do It Then.

Within him something bade to cry out. He had the impulse to make a rallying speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to call into the air: “Why – why – what – what ’s th’ matter?

A single rifle flashed in a thicket before the regiment.

He thought: “I am going to drown? Can it be possible? Can it be possible? Can it be possible?

These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youth felt that in them he had been made aged. New eyes were given to him. And the most startling thing was to learn suddenly that he was very insignificant. The officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a broom. Some part of the woods needed sweeping, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in a tone properly indifferent to its fate. It was war, no doubt, but it appeared strange.

He reflected that when one gets properly wearied, drowning must really be a comfortable arrangement, a cessation of hostilities accompanied by a large degree of relief, and he was glad of it, for the main thing in his mind for some months had been horror of the temporary agony. He did not wish to be hurt.

It is useless to expect appreciation of his profound and fine senses from such men as the lieutenant.

What a woman says doesn’t amount to shucks. It’s the way she says it – that’s what counts.

It was really the intention of the seven mad gods to drown him, despite the abominable injustice of it. For it was certainly an abominable injustice to drown a man who had worked so hard, so hard. The man felt it would be a crime most unnatural. Other people had drowned at sea since galleys swarmed with painted sails, but still –.

With the conviction came a store of assurance. He felt a quiet manhood, non-assertive but of sturdy and strong blood. He knew that he would no more quail before his guides wherever they should point. He had been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a man.

Many workmen Built a huge ball of masonry Upon a mountain-top. Then they went to the valley below, And turned to behold their work. “It is grand,” they said; They loved the thing. Of a sudden, it moved: It came upon them swiftly; It crushed them all to blood. But some had opportunity to squeal.

His face had been twisted into an expression of every agony he had imagined for his friend.

Whatever he had learned of himself was of no avail. He was an unknown quantity.

And there were iron laws of tradition and law on four sides. He was in a moving box. As he perceived this fact it occurred to him that he had never wished to come to the war. He had not enlisted of his free will. He had been dragged by the merciless government. And now they were taking him out to be slaughtered.

He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a menacing fate. He became not a man but a member. He felt that something of which he was a part – a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country – was in a crisis. He was welded into a common personality which was dominated by a single desire. For some moments he could not flee no more than a little finger can commit a revolution from a hand.

The conceit of man was explained by this storm to be the very engine of life. One.

She performed nearly all the house-work in exchange for the privilege of existence. Every.

They were going to look at war, the red animal – war, the blood-swollen god. And they were deeply engrossed in this march.

He had performed his mistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.

Eventually, his courage expended itself upon these objections. The debates drained him of his fire.

The open mouth of a saloon called seductively to passengers to enter and annihilate sorrow or create rage.

Formidable women, with uncombed hair and disordered dress, gossiped while leaning on railings, or screamed in frantic quarrels.

A serious prophet upon predicting a flood should be the first man to climb a tree.

Everything is bicycle.

But these matters did not annoy him. It is almost certain that if the boat capsized he would have tumbled comfortably out upon the ocean as if he felt sure that it was a great soft mattress.

El que puede cambiar sus pensamientos, puede cambiar su destino.

He was submitting, submitting because of his fathers, bending his mind in a most perfect slavery to this conflagration.

Alone in the kitchen, Horace stared with sombre eyes at the plate of food. For a long time he betrayed no sign of yielding. His mood was adamantine. He was resolved not to sell his vengeance for bread, cold ham, and a pickle, and yet it must be known that the sight of them affected him powerfully. The pickle in particular was notable for its seductive charm. He surveyed it darkly. Horace.

Ma, I’m going to enlist.

In death it exposed to his enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps concealed from his friends.

At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an envious way. He conceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.

Such an assemblage of the spraddle-legged men of the middle class, whose hands were bent and shoulders stooped from delving and constructing, had never appeared to an Asbury Park summer crowd, and the latter was vaguely amused.

Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually. And the angels were puzzled To know why the people went thus, And why they stayed so long within.

The word is clear only to the kind who on peak or plain, from dark northern ice-fields to the hot wet jungles, through all wine and want, through lies and unfamiliar truth, dark or light, are governed by the unknown gods, and though each man knows the law, no man may give tongue to it.

Tradition, thou art for suckling children, Thou art the enlivening milk for babes, But no meat for men is in thee.

I saw a man pursuing the horizon.

They would twist their bodies for a moment and groan, and sleep the dead sleep once more...

In the swirling rain that came at dusk the broad avenue glistened with that deep bluish tint which is so widely condemned when it is put into pictures.

The dead man and the living man exchanged a long look. Then the youth cautiously put one hand behind him and brought it against a tree. Leaning upon this he retreated, step by step, with his face still toward the thing. He feared that if he turned his back the body might spring up and stealthily pursue him.

Every sin is the result of collaboration.

If I am going to be drowned – if I am going to be drowned – if I am going to be drowned, why in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate land and trees?

Tell her this And more, – That the king of the seas Weeps too, old, helpless man. The bustling fates Heap his hands with corpses Until he stands like a child With surplus of toys.

A MAN FEARED A man feared that he might find an assassin; Another that he might find a victim. One was more wise than the other.

The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscape changed from brown to green, the army awakened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise of rumors.

When it came night, the white waves paced to and fro in the moonlight, and the wind brought the sound of the great sea’s voice to the men on shore, and they felt that they could then be interpreters.

The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.

It perhaps might be said – if any one dared – that the most worthless literature of the world has been that which has been written by the men of one nation concerning the men of another.

Let me into the darkness again.

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