Quote

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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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
Wells
Passed
Astonishment
Well
Grown
Singular
Wayfarer
Long
None
Pathways
Thickly
Time
Later
Knife
Mumbled
Saws
Roads
Perceiving
Lasts
Struck
Doubtless
Last
Knives
Pathway
Truth
Weed
Weeds

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Every sin is the result of collaboration.
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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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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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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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If there is a witness to my little life,To my tiny throes and struggles,He sees a foolAnd it is not fine for gods to menace fools.
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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.
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Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.
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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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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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It was surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much devilment.
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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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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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Doubtless there are other roads.
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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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I saw a man pursuing the horizon
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When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that there are no bricks and no temples.
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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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Swift blazing flag of the regiment,Eagle with crest of red and gold,These men were born to drill and die.Point for them the virtue of slaughter,Make plain to them the excellence of killingAnd a field where a thousand corpses lie.
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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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