His life, though none too long, Was never dull: Of woman, wine and song Bill had his full.

I have no doubts that the Devil grins, As seas of ink I spatter. Ye gods, forgive my “literary” sins – The other kind don’t matter.

I remember little of the Yukon or what I wrote there.

It's the steady, quiet, plodding ones who win in the lifelong race.

The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried; You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,But you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.

No man can be a failure if he thinks he's a success; If he thinks he is a winner, then he is.

This is the law of the Yukon, that only the strong shall thrive; that surely the weak shall perish, and only the fit survive.