Stephen Crane
Stephen Crane
Stephen Cranewas an American poet, novelist, and short story writer. Prolific throughout his short life, he wrote notable works in the Realist tradition as well as early examples of American Naturalism and Impressionism. He is recognized by modern critics as one of the most innovative writers of his generation...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth1 November 1871
CityNewark, NJ
feared man might wiser
A man feared that he might find an assassin; Another that he might find a victim. One was wiser than the other.
feature
It's not a big feature of our life.
badge courage red wishes
He wishes that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.
profound awakening sometimes
Sometimes, the most profound of awakenings come wrapped in the quietest of moments.
facts obligation
The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.
finals individual phenomenon
Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.
pain joy opinion
There is nothing- No life, No joy, No pain- There is nothing save opinion, And opinion be damned.
gone golden process
It was surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much devilment.
voice horizon desert
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.’
hate men wish
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.
land names sea
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?
rain rivers clouds
Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.
weed truth knives
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.
summer men hands
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.