You Can't Wait For Inspiration. You Have

Buck Did Not Read The Newspapers, Or He Would Have Known That Trouble Was Brewing, Not Alone For Himself, But For Every Tide-water Dog, Strong Of Muscle And With Warm, Long Hair, From Puget Sound To San Diego.

There Is Such A Thing As Anaesthesia Of Pain, Engendered By Pain Too Exquisite To Be Borne.

His Bondage Had Softened Him. Irresponsibility Had Weakened Him. He Had Forgotten How To Shift For Himself. The Night Yawned About Him.

I Do Not Live For What The World Thinks Of Me, But For What I Think Of Myself.

The Aim Of Life Was Meat. Life Itself Was Meat. Life Lived On Life. There Were The Eaters And The Eaten. The Law Was: Eat Or Be Eaten. He Did Not Formulate The Law In Clear, Set Terms And Moralize About It. He Did Not Even Think The Law; He Merely Lived The Law Without Thinking About It At All.