As for the primitive, I hark back to it because we are still very primitive. How many thousands of years of culture, think you, have rubbed and polished at our raw edges? One probably; at the best, no more than two. And that takes us back to screaming savagery, when, gross of body and deed, we drank blood from the skulls of our enemies, and hailed as highest paradise the orgies and carnage of Valhalla.

Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time.

Mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings made for death.

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

Strength is an empty shell.

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.

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.