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I would rather be ashes than dust.
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
Ashes
Dust
Rather
Would
More quotes by Jack London
Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time.
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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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The Law is a lie, and through it men lie most shamelessly.
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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.
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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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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.
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There's only one way to make a beginning, and that is to begin and begin with hard work, and patience, prepared for all the disappointment s.
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.
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But, – and there it is, – we want to live and move, though we have no reason to, because it happens that it is the nature of life to live and move, to want to live and move. If it were not for this, life would be dead. It is because of this life that is in you that you dream of your immortality.
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Not all the monsters have fangs.
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Socialism, when the last word is said, is merely a new economic and political system whereby more men can get food to eat.
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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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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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Don't write too much. Concentrate your sweat on one story, rather than dissipate it over a dozen.
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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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His bondage had softened him. Irresponsibility had weakened him. He had forgotten how to shift for himself. The night yawned about him.
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I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
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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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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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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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