Quote

A very little boy stood upon a heap of gravel for the honour of Rum Alley. He was throwing stones at howling urchins from Devil's Row, who were circling madly about the heap and pelting him. His infantile countenance was livid with the fury of battle. His small body was writhing in the delivery of oaths.

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
Little
Stones
Alleys
Oaths
Book
Devil
Countenance
Circling
Battle
Delivery
Gravel
Boys
Oath
Howling
Small
Fury
Madly
Urchins
Upon
Honour
Alley
Livid
Littles
Stood
Infantile
Writhing
Body
Throwing
Heap
Rum

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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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It was surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much devilment.
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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.
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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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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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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.
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Unwind my riddle.Cruel as hawks the hours flyWounded men seldom come home to dieThe hard waves see an arm flung highScorn hits strong because of a lieYet there exists a mystic tie.Unwind my riddle.
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Everything is bicycle.
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In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, ‘Is it good, friend?’ ‘It is bitter — bitter,’ he answered, ‘But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart.
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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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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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Let me into the darkness again.
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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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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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Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.
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Every sin is the result of collaboration.
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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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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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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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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.
Stephen Crane