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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

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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
Slowly
Stealing
Hawaiian
Heart
Hawaiians
Make
Softness
Good
Hawaii
Gentleness
Sweetness
Steal

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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.
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The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.
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I am first of all a white man, and only then a socialist.
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A man with a club is a law-maker.
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I would rather be ashes than dust.
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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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There is such a thing as anaesthesia of pain, engendered by pain too exquisite to be borne.
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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.
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If cash comes with fame, come fame if cash comes without fame, come cash.
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His conclusion was that things were not always what they appeared to be. The cub's fear of the unknown was an inherited distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. Thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding distrust of appearances.
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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.
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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)
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. . . 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!
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Darn the wheel of the world! Why must it continually turn over? Where is the reverse gear?
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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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And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down.
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Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past.
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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.
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