To have a full stomach, to daze lazily in the sunshine--such things were remuneration in full for his adors and toils, while his ardors and toils were in themselves self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, and life is always happy when it is expressing itself.

A man with a club [bat] is a law-maker, a man to be obeyed, but not necessarily conciliated.

Don't write too much. Concentrate your sweat on one story, rather than dissipate it over a dozen.

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

Having no new companions, nothing remained for him but to read.

So that was the way. No fair play. Once down, that was the end of you.

And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down.