Heart of Darkness (edit title/settings)

Ridiculously Simplified Synopsis edit

Write a ridiculously simplified synopsis.

Quotes edit see section history

• “...but I like what is in work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself, not for others.”

  Marlow

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• The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself—that comes too late—a crop of unextinguishable regrets.

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• “And this also,” said Marlow suddenly, “has been one of the dark places of the earth.”

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• The point was in his being a gifted creature, and that of all his gifts the one that stood out pre-eminently, that carried with it a sense of real presence, was his ability to talk, his words—the gift of expression, the bewildering, the illuminating, the most exalted and the most contemptible, the pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness.

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• No, I don’t like work. I had rather laze about and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don’t like work,—no man does—but I like what is in the work,—the chance to find yourself. Your own reality—for yourself, not for others—what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.

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• The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it; not a sentimental pretence but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea—something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to . . .”

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• “Going up that river was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings.

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• We live in the flicker—may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday.

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• Often far away there I thought of these two, guarding the door of Darkness, knitting black wool as for a warm pall, one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown, the other scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. Ave! Old knitter of black wool. Morituri te salutant. Not many of those she looked at ever saw her again—not half, by a long way.

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• When you have to attend to things of that sort, to the mere incidents of the surface, the reality—the reality, I tell you—fades. The inner truth is hidden—luckily, luckily.

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• I saw him extend his short flipper of an arm for a gesture that took in the forest, the creek, the mud, the river—seemed to beckon with a dishonouring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart.

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First Sentence edit see section history

Table of Contents edit see section history

Authors & Contributors edit see section history

1. Joseph Conrad (Author)

First Edition edit see section history

Classification edit see section history

• Library of Congress: Add the Library of Congress Classification.
• Dewey: 823.912

Subjects edit see section history

• Books › Literature & Fiction › World Literature › British › Classics › Conrad, Joseph
• Books › Literature & Fiction › Authors, A-Z › ( C ) › Conrad, Joseph
• Books › Travel › Africa › Democratic Republic of Congo
• Books › Literature & Fiction › Classics
• Books › Literature & Fiction › Classics
• Books › Literature & Fiction › Contemporary