When it came night, the white waves paced to and fro in the moonlight, and the wind brought the sound of the great sea's voice to the men on shore, and they felt that they could then be interpreters.
It perhaps might be said--if any one dared--that the most worthless literature of the world has been that which has been written by the men of one nation concerning the men of another.
Interpretation
What this quote means
Crane critiques how literature often misrepresents other nations and cultures.
In this quote, Stephen Crane reflects on the idea that literature created by individuals about other nations can often lack authenticity and value, suggesting that such works fail to genuinely convey the realities of those outside one's own cultural experience. He implies that understanding and representing another culture requires more than mere observation; it necessitates a deeper engagement that is often absent in cross-national literary works, leading to misinterpretations and a devaluation of both the subject and the writer.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
In a literary discussion about cross-cultural representation, this quote could highlight the importance of authentic voices.
More from Stephen Crane
All quotes →I saw a man pursuing the horizon
Two or three angels Came near to the earth. They saw a fat church. Little black streams of people Came and went in continually. And the angels were puzzled To know why the people went thus, And why they stayed so long within.
Sometimes, the most profound of awakenings come wrapped in the quietest of moments.
Tell her this And more,— That the king of the seas Weeps too, old, helpless man. The bustling fates Heap his hands with corpses Until he stands like a child With surplus of toys.
Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.
Similar quotes
Every great literature has always been allegorical - allegorical of some view of the whole universe. The 'Iliad' is only great because all life is a battle, the 'Odyssey' because all life is a journey, the Book of Job because all life is a riddle.
If a writer knows what he or she is doing, I'll go along for the ride. If he or she doesn't... well, I'm in my fifties now, and there are a lot of books out there. I don't have time to waste with the poorly written ones.
All the world knows me in my book, and my book in me.
In a utilitarian age, of all other times, it is a matter of grave importance that fairy tales should be respected.
Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.
Your business as a writer is not to illustrate virtue but to show how a fellow may move toward it or away from it.