Strength Is An Empty Shell.

Had The Cub Thought In Man-fashion, He Might Have Epitomized Life As A Voracious Appetite, And The World As A Place Wherein Ranged A Multitude Of Appetites, Pursuing And Being Pursued, Hunting And Being Hunted, Eating And Being Eaten, All In Blindness And Confusion, With Violence And Disorder, A Chaos Of Gluttony And Slaughter, Ruled Over By Chance, Merciless, Planless, Endless.

Too Much Is Written By The Men Who Can't Write About The Men Who Do Write.

...men, Groping In The Arctic Darkness, Had Found A Yellow Metal, And Because Steamship And Transportation Companies Were Booming The Find, Thousands Of Men Were Rushing Into The Northland. These Men Wanted Dogs, And The Dogs They Wanted Were Heavy Dogs, With Strong Muscles By Which To Toil, And Furry Coats To Protect Them From The Frost.

Thus It Was That In Obedience To The Law Laid Down By His Mother, And In Obedience To The Law Of That Unknown And Nameless Thing, Fear, He Kept Away From The Mouth Of The Cave.

Love Cannot In Its Very Nature Be Peaceful Or Content. It Is A Restlessness, An Unsatisfaction. I Can Grant A Lasting Love Just As I Can Grant A Lasting Unsatisfaction; But The Lasting Love Cannot Be Coupled With Possession, For Love Is Pain And Desire And Possession Is Easement And Fulfilment.