Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear?
Jack London
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
Jack London
Age: 40 †
Born: 1876
Born: January 12
Died: 1916
Died: November 22
Author
Autobiographer
Diarist
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Prosaist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
San Francisco County
California
John Griffith Chaney
John Griffith Jack London
John Griffith Chaney London
John Griffith Jack London Chaney
Continually
Reverse
Wheels
Turn
Turns
Darn
Must
Gear
Time
Gears
World
Wheel
More quotes by Jack London
He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survive.
Jack London
But, – and there it is, – we want to live and move, though we have no reason to, because it happens that it is the nature of life to live and move, to want to live and move. If it were not for this, life would be dead. It is because of this life that is in you that you dream of your immortality.
Jack London
It is so much easier to live placidly and complacently. Of course, to live placidly and complacently is not to live at all.
Jack London
Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not until deprived of them.
Jack London
He felt strangely numb. As though from a great distance, he was aware that he was being beaten. The last sensations of pain left him. He no longer felt anything, though very faintly he could hear the impact of the club upon his body. But it was no longer his body, it seemed so far away.
Jack London
I am first of all a white man, and only then a socialist.
Jack London
more you drink more you want
Jack London
Man is a flux of states of consciousness, a flow of passing thoughts, each thought of self another self, a myriad thoughts, a myriad selves, a continual becoming but never being, a will-of-the-wisp flitting of ghosts in ghostland.
Jack London
He became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, more cruel more ferocious, and more intelligent. He had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own nor survived the hostile environment in which he found himself.
Jack London
There is such a thing as anaesthesia of pain, engendered by pain too exquisite to be borne.
Jack London
She was thrilling to a desire that urged her to go forward, to be in closer to that fire, to be squabbling with the dogs, and to be avoiding and dodging the stumbling feet of men.
Jack London
On the sled, in the box, lay a third man whose toil was over, - a man whom the Wild had conquered and beaten down until he would never move nor struggle again. It is not the way of the Wild to like movement. Life is an offense to it, for life is movement and the Wild aims always to destroy movement.
Jack London
Love cannot in its very nature be peaceful or content. It is a restlessness, an unsatisfaction. I can grant a lasting love just as I can grant a lasting unsatisfaction but the lasting love cannot be coupled with possession, for love is pain and desire and possession is easement and fulfilment.
Jack London
The greatest of the arts is the conquering of men.
Jack London
Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time.
Jack London
Denied the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and developed his mental processes. He became cunning he had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery.
Jack London
As one grows weaker one is less susceptible to suffering. There is less hurt because there is less to hurt.
Jack London
The Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.
Jack London
Pray do not interrupt me, he wrote. I am smiling.
Jack London
He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars.
Jack London