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They were not half living, or quarter living. They were simply so many bags of bones in which sparks of life fluttered faintly.

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
Living
Faintly
Many
Quarter
Life
Sparks
Quarters
Bags
Bones
Simply
Half
Fluttered

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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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Too much is written by the men who can't write about the men who do write.
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...in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness -- faith in a system and this made his damnation certain.
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Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!
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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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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.
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This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone.
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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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The Law is a lie, and through it men lie most shamelessly.
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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’.
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My mistake was in ever opening the books.
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I'd rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.
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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.
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So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you.
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Not all the monsters have fangs.
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The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.
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more you drink more you want
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In a saturated population life is always cheap.
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The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.
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