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There is such a thing as anaesthesia of pain, engendered by pain too exquisite to be borne.

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
Exquisite
Pain
Thing
Anaesthesia
Engendered
Anesthesia
Borne

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Don't loaf and invite inspiration light out after it with a club, and if you don't get it you will nonetheless get something that looks remarkably like it.
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I am first of all a white man, and only then a socialist.
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I do not live for what the world thinks of me, but for what I think of myself.
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I did not begin when I was born, nor when I was conceived. I have been growing, developing, through incalculable myriads of millenniums... All my previous selves have their voices, echoes, promptings in me... Oh, incalculable times again shall I be born.
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He was not immoral, but merely unmoral.
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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.
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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.
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Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time.
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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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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.
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Not all the monsters have fangs.
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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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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.
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A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog.
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I'll have you know I do the swearing on this ship. If I need your assitance I'll call you. Capt. Wolf Larsen
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But under it all they were men, penetrating the land of desolation and mockery and silence, puny adventurers bent on colossal adventure, pitting themselves against the might of a world as remote and alien and pulseless as the abysses of space.
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The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.
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I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
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I would rather be ashes than dust.
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Man is man because he chanced to develop intelligence instead of instinct otherwise he would to this day have remained among the anthropoid apes. He has turned away from nature, become unnatural, as it were, disliked the earth upon which he found himself, and changed the face of it somewhat to his liking.
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