Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Denied the outlet, through play, of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and developed his mental processes. He became cunning he had idle time in which to devote himself to thoughts of trickery.
Jack London
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Thoughts
Outlets
Upon
Cunning
Process
Processes
Energy
Idle
Recoiled
Play
Denied
Trickery
Time
Developed
Outlet
Mental
Devote
Became
Energies
More quotes by Jack London
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
Jack London
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.
Jack London
A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.
Jack London
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.
Jack London
Men do not knowingly drink for the effect alcohol produces on the body. What they drink for is the brain-effect and if it must come through the body, so much the worse for the body.
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
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.
Jack London
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
Jack London
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.
Jack London
Don't write too much. Concentrate your sweat on one story, rather than dissipate it over a dozen.
Jack London
You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.
Jack London
Life is so short. I would rather sing one song than interpret the thousand.
Jack London
. . . and God knows we are sensitive to the suffering that has sometimes broken loose to come billowing forth from your appendages like the pungent vapors of whales - often it appears that in this life of experience and accommodation we pay just as dearly for our triumphs as we do for our defeats. But Sissy . . . hold on!
Jack London
There is such a thing as anaesthesia of pain, engendered by pain too exquisite to be borne.
Jack London
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 disappointÂment s.
Jack London
Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past.
Jack London
more you drink more you want
Jack London
This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone.
Jack London
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
There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.
Jack London