They were going to look at war, the red animal — war, the blood-swollen god. - Stephen Crane

The open mouth of a saloon called seductively to passengers to enter and annihilate sorrow or create rage.

"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 brick and no temples. Any visible expression
of nature would surely be pelleted with his jeers.

Then, if there be no tangible thing to hoot he feels, perhaps, the
desire to confront a personification and indulge in pleas, bowed to one
knee, and with hands supplicant, saying: "Yes, but I love myself.

Through his suffering, he peers into the core of things and sees that the judgment of man is thistle-down in the wind.