Some sorts of truth are truer than others.

He became quicker of movement than the other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, more lithe, more lean with ironlike muscle and sinew, more enduring, more cruel more ferocious, and more intelligent. He had to become all these things, else he would not have held his own nor survived the hostile environment in which he found himself.

The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.

Everything is good . . . as long as it is unpossessed. Satiety and possession are Death's horses they run in span.

Food and fire, protection and companionship, were some of the things he received from the god. In return, he guarded the god's property, defended his body, worked for him, and obeyed him.

It is so much easier to live placidly and complacently. Of course, to live placidly and complacently is not to live at all.

San Francisco is gone. Nothing remains of it but memories.