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

Old Year! upon the Stage of Time You stand to bow your last adieu; A moment, and the prompter's chime Will ring the curtain down on you.

I have an intense dislike for artificial society. In France, one could lead a free life - to do what one wanted to do without interference or criticism from one's neighbors.

The only society I like is rough and tough, and the tougher the better. There's where you get down to bedrock and meet human people.

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

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.

The Wanderlust has got me... by the belly-aching fire