Quote

When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top He cried: Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands— But the scene is grey.

Stephen Crane

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Stephen Crane
Age: 81 †
Born: 1981
Born: November 1
Died: 1900
Died: June 5
Author
Baseball Player
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Newark
New Jersey
Johnston Smith
Intended
White
Black
Cried
Good
Prophet
Complacent
Men
Fats
Woe
Mountain
Lands
Scene
Arrived
Land
Grey
Knowledge

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Truth ... Is a breath, a wind, A shadow, a phantom Long have I pursued it, But never have I touched The hem of its garment.
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Let me into the darkness again.
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When the suicide arrived at the sky, the people there asked him: Why? He replied: Because no one admired me.
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Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,Raged at his breast, gulped and died,Do not weep.War is kind.
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Think as I think, said a man, or you are abominably wicked you are a toad. And after I thought of it, I said, I will, then, be a toad.
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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?
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The voice of God whispers in the heart So softly That the soul pauses, Making no noise, And strives for these melodies, Distant, sighing, like faintest breath, And all the being is still to hear.
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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.
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Everything is bicycle.
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I walked in a desert. And I cried, ‘Ah, God, take me from this place!’ A voice said, ‘It is no desert.’ I cried, ‘Well, But - The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon.’ A voice said, ‘It is no desert.’
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Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.
Stephen Crane
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The wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. Ha, he said, I see that none has passed here In a long time. Later he saw that each weed Was a singular knife. Well, he mumbled at last, Doubtless there are other roads.
Stephen Crane
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I saw a man pursuing the horizon
Stephen Crane
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There were many who went in huddled procession,They knew not wither,But, at any rate, success or calamityWould attend all in equality.There was one who sought a new road,He went into direful thickets,And ultimately he died thus, aloneBut they said he had courage.
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I saw a man pursuing the horizonRound and round they sped.I was disturbed at thisI accosted the man.It is futile, I said,You can never-You lie, he cried,And ran on.
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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.
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Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.Because your lover threw wild hands toward the skyAnd the affrighted steed ran on alone,Do not weep.War is kind.
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A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!' 'However,' replied the universe. 'The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.
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He vaguely desired to walk around and around the body and stare the impulse of the living to try to read in dead eyes the answer to the Question.
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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.
Stephen Crane