Is it one wid this you'd be, Yank — black smoke from the fu… - Eugene O'Neill

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Is it one wid this you'd be, Yank — black smoke from the funnels smudging the sea, smudging the decks — the bloody engines pounding and throbbing and shaking — wid divil a sight of sun or a breath of clean air — choking our lungs wid coal dust — breaking our backs and hearts in the hell of the stokehole — feeding the bloody furnace — feeding our lives along wid the coal, I'm thinking — caged in by steel from a sight of the sky like bloody apes in the Zoo!

Eugene O'Neill

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About Eugene O'Neill

Eugene O'Neill (16 October 1888 – 27 November 1953) was an American playwright and Nobel laureate in Literature.

Also Known As

Native Name: Eugene Gladstone O'Neill

Alternative Names: Eugene O’Neill • Eugene Gladstone O’Neill

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William Faulkner Arthur Miller Robert Louis Stevenson Roger Zelazny Margaret Atwood

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What the hell was it I wanted to buy, I wonder, that was worth—Well no matter. It's a late day for regrets.

One may not give one's soul to a devil of hate — and remain forever scatheless.

Or rather, I inherited the acquired trait of the by-product, wealth, but none of the energy, none of the strength of the steel that made it. I am sired by gold and damned by it, as they say at the race track — damned in more ways than one.

Is it one wid this you'd be, Yank — black smoke from the funnels smudging the sea, smudging the decks — the bloody engines pounding and throbbing and… - Eugene O'Neill

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