She realized for the first time that two people can never reach each others deepest feelings and instincts, that they spend their lives side by side, linked it may be, but not mingled, and that each one’s inmost being must go through life eternally alone. ― Guy de Maupassant, A Woman’s Life and Other Stories.… Continue reading Guy de Maupassant
The kiss itself is immortal. It travels from lip to lip, century to century, from age to age. Men and women garner these kisses, offer them to others and then die in turn. — Guy de Maupassant, The Complete Short Stories of Guy de Maupassant, Part One. (Kessinger Publishing, LLC March 1, 2005) Originally published… Continue reading Guy de Maupassant
Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature. ― Stephen Crane, from “The Open Boat,” The Open Boat and Other Stories. (Dover Publications; English Language edition May 12, 1993) Originally published 1898.
It appeared that the swift wings of their desires would have shattered against the iron gates of the impossible. — Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage ( Prestwick House Inc. , 2004; first published 1895)
A learned man came to me once.He said, “I know the way, — come.”And I was overjoyed at this.Together we hastened.Soon, too soon, were weWhere my eyes were useless,And I knew not the ways of my feet.I clung to the hand of my friend;But at last he cried, “I am lost.” — Stephen Crane, “A… Continue reading Stephen Crane
LITTLE birds of the nightAye, they have much to tellPerching there in rowsBlinking at me with their serious eyesRecounting of flowers they have seen and lovedOf meadows and groves of the distanceAnd pale sands at the foot of the seaAnd breezes that fly in the leaves.They are vast in experienceThese little birds that come in… Continue reading Stephen Crane
You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club. — Jack London
I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it Because it is bitter, And because it is my heart. — Stephen Crane, “In the Desert,” Twentieth-Century American Poetry… Continue reading Stephen Crane
But remember, my reader, whom I hope to have travel far with me through time and space remember, please, my reader, that I have thought much on these matters that through bloody nights and sweats of dark that lasted years long I have been alone with my many selves to consult and contemplate my many… Continue reading Jack London
I would rather be ashes than dust; I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live,… Continue reading Jack London
The Vale of Soul-Making 