For the pride of trace and trail was his, and sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do his work.

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

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

Somehow, the love of the islands, like the love of a woman, just happens. One cannot determine in advance to love a particular woman, nor can one so determine to love Hawaii.

The man, with his brain, can pierce the intoxicating mirage of things and contemplate a frozen universe in the most perfect indifference to him and his dreams.

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

They were firemakers! They were gods! [humans]