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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

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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
Alone
Surviving
Living
Killers
Strong
Hostile
Preyed
Thing
Survive
Unaided
Things
Lived
Triumphantly
Strength
Prowess
Environment
Predator
Virtue
Killer

More quotes by Jack London

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I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
Jack London
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He had come to know quite thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak and materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and the bright sweetness of spirit did not exist.
Jack London
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No I did not hate him. The word is too weak. There is no word in the language strong enough to describe my feelings. I can say only that I knew the gnawing of a desire for vengeance on him that was a pain in itself and that exceeded all the bounds of language.
Jack London
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The great task demanded of man is reproduction. He is urged by passion to perform this task. Passion, working through the imagination, produces love. Passion is the impelling factor, imagination the disturbing factor and the disturbance of passion by imagination produces love.
Jack London
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The loneliness of the man is slowly being borne in upon me. There is not a man aboard but hates or fears him, nor is there a man whom he does not despise.
Jack London
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Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not until deprived of them.
Jack London
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The man, with his brain, can pierce the intoxicating mirage of things and contemplate a frozen universe in the most perfect indifference to him and his dreams.
Jack London
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If cash comes with fame, come fame if cash comes without fame, come cash.
Jack London
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Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget Sound to San Diego.
Jack London
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And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down.
Jack London
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Men do not knowingly drink for the effect alcohol produces on the body. What they drink for is the brain-effect and if it must come through the body, so much the worse for the body.
Jack London
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He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.
Jack London
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I write for no other purpose than to add to the beauty that now belongs to me. I write a book for no other reason than to add three or four hundred acres to my magnificent estate.
Jack London
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In a saturated population life is always cheap.
Jack London
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It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild, the savage, frozen-hearted Northland Wild. (Ch.1)
Jack London
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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
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Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear?
Jack London
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Make good the good in you...and you will slowly steal into the Hawaiian heart, which is all of softness, and gentleness, and sweetness.
Jack London
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Not all the monsters have fangs.
Jack London
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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