The aim of life was meat. Life itself was meat. Life lived on life. There were the eaters and the eaten.
JACK LONDONNo; I did not hate him. The word is too weak. There is no word in the language strong enough to describe my feelings. I can say only that I knew the gnawing of a desire for vengeance on him that was a pain in itself and that exceeded all the bounds of language.
More Jack London Quotes
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Alcohol tells truth, but its truth is not normal.
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The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.
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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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To be able to forget means sanity.
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Life is so short. I would rather sing one song than interpret the thousand.
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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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The Law is a lie, and through it men lie most shamelessly.
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I write for no other purpose than to add to the beauty that now belongs to me.
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Desire is a pain which seeks easement through possession.
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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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It’s better to stand by someone’s side than by yourself
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Pursuit and possession are accompanied by states of consciousness so wide apart that they can never be united.
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The most beautiful stories always start with wreckage.
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I was five years old the first time I got drunk.
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Age is never so old as youth would measure it.
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I believe that when I am dead, I am dead. I believe that with my death I am just as much obliterated as the last mosquito you and I squashed.
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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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Where others have hearts, he carries a tumor of rotten principles.
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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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Not all the monsters have fangs.
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Everything is good as long as it is unpossessed. Satiety and possession are Death’s horses they run in span.
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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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So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you.
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The greatest of the arts is the conquering of men.
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Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not until deprived of them.
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The scab is a traitor to his God, his mother, and his class.
JACK LONDON