He had learned well the law of club and fang, and he never forewent an advantage or drew back from a foe he had started on the way to Death. He had lessoned from Spitz, and from the chief fighting dogs of the police and mail, and knew there was no middle course. He must master or be mastered; while to show mercy was a weakness. mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstandings made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate, down out of the depths of Time, he obeyed.

I am first of all a white man, and only then a socialist.

Then one can't make a living out of poetry? Certainly not. What fool expects to? Out of rhyming, yes.

I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.

This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone.

The Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.

There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.