Stephen Crane Quotes

So much wanting and longing, clutching, desiring, passion and hatred and terrible need. Here, death was suitable, there was room for it, the grip of life's relentless urges slackened, replaced by this icy simplicity. This wasnt her death. It was his. That was the sad and honest truth. Though it would stay with her, it would be more like a black onyx heart on a silver chain, worn privately, under her clothes, close to her body, all her life. The guilt, the beauty, everything. It wasnt over, it had only begun. Well ok then, Okay.

She was owner and captive, both, of a bitterly divided heart.

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.

Just remember when you think you're free, the crack in your heart is me.

And so this young one, this young one whom I had so loved, I had to forsake, no matter how broken my heart, no matter how lonely my soul, no matter how bruised my intellect and spirit.

Delia picked at the raw sores of her conscience...Drunk or sober, Delia lived in the small town in her heart, ignoring the world in which all her love had turned to grief.

It's true/ I do imbue my blue unto myself/ I make it bitter.

I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!

A brave heart? It feels like a swollen and aching thing in my chest.

There isn't a thing to eat down there in the rabbit hole of your bitterness except your own desperate heart.

My heart is a protest that I let rally against my ribs.

I love you. I love you, but I’m turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist.

But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.

Afraid of decision, I buried my finer feelings in the depths of my heart and they died there.

The weather is entrancing, but in my heart there is no sun.

in the caves of my heart, where pain taps out its rhythms and sorrow sets its loss, i am without direction.

Secret sins commonly lie nearest the heart.

My heart beat Beats me senselessly Why's everything Gotta be so intense with me.

The Detective was different. Not that he wasn't a good man; Willie had heard enough about him to understand that he was the kind who didn't like to turn away from another's pain, the kind who couldn't put a pillow over his ears to drown out the cries of strangers. Those scars he had were badges of courage, and Willie knew that there were others hidden beneath his clothes, and still more deep inside, right beneath the skin and down to the soul. No, it was just that whatever goodness was there coexisted with rage and grief and loss.

You fight so hard, so long, to cut someone out of your heart, but it’s not always your heart that betrays you.

Because every one of us has our box, a dark chamber stowing the thing that lanced our heart. It contains what you do everything for, strive for, wound everything around you.

It is a rose planted in your heart, and as it's thorns tear you, so does it thrive and flower

She went around with a broken heart, and she wasn't sure who'd broken it. She thought it was herself, mostly.

Raw hatred took its time making an outpost of its rage and prepared for me a savage crown with rusty, bloodstained spikes. It wasn't pride that made me keep my heart at a distance from such terror, nor did I waste on revenge or the pursuit of power the forces that came from my selfish griefs or my accumulated joys. It was something else-my helplessness.