Life, in a sense, is living and surviving. And all that makes for living and surviving is good. He who follows the fact cannot go astray, while he who has no reverence for the fact wanders afar.

White Fang knew the law well: to oppress the weak and obey the strong.

Where others have hearts, he carries a tumor of rotten principles.

But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something calling him far and away.

The aim of life was meat. Life itself was meat. Life lived on life. There were the eaters and the eaten.

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.

I do not live for what the world thinks of me, but for what I think of myself.