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.
Stephen CraneRead
When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top He cried: "Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands— But the scene is grey.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the disillusionment with reality, showing that things are often not as clear-cut as we wish them to be.
In this quote by Stephen Crane, the prophet's lamentation about the grey scene symbolizes the complexity of knowledge and truth. Instead of the expected dichotomy of good and bad, the reality presented is mixed and ambiguous, suggesting that life and understanding are rarely black and white. This raises questions about our preconceived notions and the limitations of our understanding.
In practice
During a lecture on the complexities of morality, this quote could emphasize that issues are often not just right or wrong.
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.
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.
Equality may be a right, but no power on earth can convert it into fact.
I want to feel my own nothingness, I want to give myself up in absolute resignation to God, to lie prostrate and passive at His feet, with no other disposition in my heart than that of merging my will into His will, and no other language in my mouth than that of prayer for the perfecting of His strength in my weakness.
If I'm gonna tell a real story, I'm gonna start with my name.
Awareness is ever there. It need not be realized. Open the shutter of the mind, and it will be flooded with light.
What give all that is tragic, whatever its form, the characteristic of the sublime, is the first inkling of the knowledge that the world and life can give no satisfaction, and are not worth our investment in them. The tragic spirit consists in this. Accordingly it leads to resignation.
I am dying with the help of too many physicians.
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