Stephen Crane Quotes

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.

but his body persisted in rebellion and his senses nagged at him like pampered babies.

Men were better, or more timid. Secular and religious education had effaced the throat-grappling instinct, or else firm finance held in check the passions.

The injured captain, lying in the bow, was at this time buried in that profound dejection and indifference which comes, temporarily at least, to
even the bravest and most enduring when, willy nilly, the firm fails, the army loses, the ship goes down.

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

Whereupon she went to work, having the feminine aversion of going to hell.

ONCE, I KNEW A FINE SONG, — IT IS TRUE, BELIEVE ME, — IT WAS ALL OF BIRDS,
AND I HELD THEM IN A BASKET;
WHEN I OPENED THE WICKET,
HEAVENS! THEY ALL FLEW AWAY.
I CRIED, ’COME BACK, LITTLE THOUGHTS!’
BUT THEY ONLY LAUGHED.
THEY FLEW ON
UNTIL THEY WERE AS SAND
THROWN BETWEEN ME AND THE SKY.

Thoughts of his comrades came to him. The brittle blue line had withstood the blows and won. He grew bitter over it. It seemed that the blind ignorance and stupidity of those little pieces had betrayed him. He had been overturned and crushed by their lack of sense in holding the position, when intelligent deliberation would have convinced them that it was impossible. He, the enlightened man who looks afar in the dark, had fled because of his superior perceptions and knowledge. He felt a great anger against his comrades. He knew it could be proved that they had been fools.

LVI

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

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.

Once he thought he had concluded that it would be better to get killed directly and end his troubles. Regarding death thus out of the corner of his eye, he conceived it to be nothing but rest, and he was filled with a momentary astonishment that he should have made an extraordinary commotion over the mere matter of getting killed.

His fingers twined nervously about his rifle. He wished that it was an engine of annihilating power. He felt that he and his companions were being taunted and derided from sincere convictions that they were poor and puny. His knowledge of his inability to take vengeance for it made his rage into a dark and stormy specter, that possessed him and made him dream of abominable cruelties. The tormentors were flies sucking insolently at his blood, and he thought that he would have given his life for a revenge of seeing their faces in pitiful plights.

If You Ain't Afraid, Go Do It Then

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

Every sin is the result of a colaboration