I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. "It is futile," I said, "You can never—" "Y… - Stephen Crane

When one exchanged the rowing-seat for a place in the bottom of the boat, he suffered a bodily depression that caused him to be careless of everything save an obligation to wiggle one finger. There was cold sea-water swashing to and fro in the boat, and he lay in it. His head, pillowed on a thwart, was within an inch of the swirl of a wave crest, and sometimes a particularly obstreperous sea came in-board and drenched him once more. But these matters did not annoy him. It is almost certain that if the boat had capsized he would have tumbled comfortably out upon the ocean as if he felt sure it was a great soft mattress.

The conceit of man was explained by this storm to be the very engine of life.

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.