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As one grows weaker one is less susceptible to suffering. There is less hurt because there is less to hurt.
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
Suffering
Less
Weaker
Susceptible
Weakness
Hurt
Grows
More quotes by 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
The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.
Jack London
Don't write too much. Concentrate your sweat on one story, rather than dissipate it over a dozen.
Jack London
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
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
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
So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you.
Jack London
But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as a man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called -- called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.
Jack London
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
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
The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.
Jack London
Too much is written by the men who can't write about the men who do write.
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
For the pride of trace and trail was his, and sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do his work.
Jack London
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
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.
Jack London
Then one can't make a living out of poetry? Certainly not. What fool expects to? Out of rhyming, yes.
Jack London
The fortunate man is the one who cannot take more than a couple of drinks without becoming intoxicated. The unfortunate wight is the one who can take many glasses without betraying a sign who must take numerous glasses in order to get the ‘kick’.
Jack London
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
The human race is doomed to sink back farther and farther into the primitive night ere again it begins its bloody climb upward to civilization.
Jack London
