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His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened him. He had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night yawned about him.

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
Weakened
Fangs
Bondage
Shift
Forgotten
Night
Yawned
Softened
Irresponsibility

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Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him and how, on a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest space of time.
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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.
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Life is so short. I would rather sing one song than interpret the thousand.
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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)
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For the pride of trace and trail was his, and sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do his work.
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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.
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Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!
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Everything is good . . . as long as it is unpossessed. Satiety and possession are Death's horses they run in span.
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The Law is a lie, and through it men lie most shamelessly.
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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.
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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.
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A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.
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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.
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He was always striving to attain it. The life that was so swiftly expanding within him, urged him continually toward the wall of light. The life that was within him knew that it was the one way out, the way he was predestined to tread.
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more you drink more you want
Jack London
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I love the flesh. I'm a pagan. Who are they who speak evil of the clay? The very stars are made of clay like mine!
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Then one can't make a living out of poetry? Certainly not. What fool expects to? Out of rhyming, yes.
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This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone.
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.
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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