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Stephen Vincent Benét was an American poet, short story writer, and novelist. He is best known for his book-length narrative poem of the American Civil War John Brown's Body , for which he received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, and for the short stories "The Devil and Daniel Webster" and "By the Waters of Babylon" . In 2009, The Library of America selected his story "The King of the Cats" for inclusion in its two-century retrospective of American Fantastic Tales edited by Peter Straub. Wikipedia  

✵ 22. červenec 1898 – 13. březen 1943
Stephen Vincent Benét foto
Stephen Vincent Benét: 102   citátů 2   lajky

Stephen Vincent Benét: Citáty anglicky

“I went fasting, as is the law. My body hurt but not my heart. When the dawn came, I was out of sight of the village. I prayed and purified myself, waiting for a sign. The sign was an eagle. It flew east.
Sometimes signs are sent by bad spirits. I waited again on the flat rock, fasting, taking no food. I was very still — I could feel the sky above me and the earth beneath. I waited till the sun was beginning to sink. Then three deer passed in the valley going east — they did not mind me or see me. There was a white fawn with them — a very great sign.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét kniha By the Waters of Babylon

Zdroj: By the Waters of Babylon (1937)

“For the man crucified on the crossed machine guns
Without name, without resurrection, without stars,
His dark head heavy with death and his flesh long sour
With the smell of his many prisons — John Smith, John Doe,
John Nobody — oh, crack your mind for his name!
Faceless as water, naked as the dust,
Dishonored as the earth the gas-shells poison
And barbarous with portent.
This is he.
This is the man they ate at the green table
Putting their gloves on ere they touched the meat.
This is the fruit of war, the fruit of peace,
The ripeness of invention, the new lamb,
The answer to the wisdom of the wise.
And still he hangs, and still he will not die
And still, on the steel city of our years
The light falls and the terrible blood streams down.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Litany for Dictatorships (1935)

“We heard the shots in the night
But nobody knew next day what the trouble was
And a man must go to his work.
So I didn't see him
For three days, then, and me near out of my mind
And all the patrols on the streets with their dirty guns
And when he came back, he looked drunk, and the blood was on him.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Litany for Dictatorships (1935)

“For those denounced by their smug, horrible children
For a peppermint-star and the praise of the Perfect State,
For all those strangled, gelded or merely starved
To make perfect states; for the priest hanged in his cassock,
The Jew with his chest crushed in and his eyes dying,
The revolutionist lynched by the private guards
To make perfect states, in the names of the perfect states.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Litany for Dictatorships (1935)

“For those slain at once.
For those living through the months and years
Enduring, watching, hoping, going each day
To the work or the queue for meat or the secret club,
Living meanwhile, begetting children, smuggling guns,
And found and killed at the end like rats in a drain.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Litany for Dictatorships (1935)

“She is all peace, all quiet,
All passionate desires, the eloquent thunder
Of new, glad suns, shouting aloud for joy,
Over fresh worlds and clean, trampling the air
Like stooping hawks, to the long wind of horns,
Flung from the bastions of Eternity...
And she is the low lake, drowsy and gentle,
And good words spoken from the tongues of friends,
And calmness in the evening, and deep thoughts,
Falling like dreams from the stars' solemn mouths.
All these.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Lover in Hell

“There was no pain when I awoke,
No pain at all. Rest, like a goad,
Spurred my eyes open — and light broke
Upon them like a million swords:
And she was there. There are no words. Heaven is for a moment's span.
And ever.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

“I stumbled, slipped... and all was gone
That I had gained. Once more I lay
Before the long bright Hell of ice.
And still the light was far away.
There was red mist before my eyes
Or I could tell you how I went
Across the swaying firmament,
A glittering torture of cold stars,
And how I fought in Titan wars...
And died... and lived again upon
The rack... and how the horses strain
When their red task is nearly done. . .
I only know that there was Pain,
Infinite and eternal Pain.
And that I fell — and rose again.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

“I crawled. I could not speak or see
Save dimly. The ice glared like fire,
A long bright Hell of choking cold,
And each vein was a tautened wire,
Throbbing with torture — and I crawled.
My hands were wounds.
So I attained
The second Hell.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

“It is not given me to trace
The lovely laughter of that face,
Like a clear brook most full of light,
Or olives swaying on a height,
So silver they have wings, almost;
Like a great word once known and lost
And meaning all things. Nor her voice
A happy sound where larks rejoice,
Her body, that great loveliness,
The tender fashion of her dress,
I may not paint them.
These I see,
Blazing through all eternity,
A fire-winged sign, a glorious tree!”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

“Was it not better so to lie?
The fight was done. Even gods tire
Of fighting... My way was the wrong.
Now I should drift and drift along
To endless quiet, golden peace...
And let the tortured body cease.And then a light winked like an eye.
. . . And very many miles away
A girl stood at a warm, lit door,
Holding a lamp. Ray upon ray
It cloaked the snow with perfect light.
And where she was there was no night
Nor could be, ever. God is sure,
And in his hands are things secure.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

“The iron ice stung like a goad,
Slashing the torn shoes from my feet,
And all the air was bitter sleet. And all the land was cramped with snow,
Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan,
Like pale plains of obsidian.
— And yet I strove — and I was fire
And ice — and fire and ice were one
In one vast hunger of desire.”

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Stephen Vincent Benét

Zdroj: Young Adventure (1918), The Quality of Courage

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