I Remember Little Of The Yukon Or

Be Master Of Your Petty Annoyances And Conserve Your Energies For The Big, Worthwhile Things. It Isn't The Mountain Ahead That Wears You Out - It's The Grain Of Sand In Your Shoe.

I Have No Doubts That The Devil Grins, As Seas Of Ink I Spatter. Ye Gods, Forgive My “literary” Sins – The Other Kind Don’t Matter.

This Is The Law Of The Yukon, That Only The Strong Shall Thrive; That Surely The Weak Shall Perish, And Only The Fit Survive.

Now A Promise Made Is A Debt Unpaid, And The Trail Has Its Own Stern Code.

His Life, Though None Too Long, Was Never Dull: Of Woman, Wine And Song Bill Had His Full.