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

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.

Our breath is brief, and being so Let's make our heaven here below, And lavish kindness as we go.

Be sure your wisest words are those you do not say.

A promise made is a debt unpaid.

Ah! the clock is always slow; it is later than you think.

The lonely sunsets flare forlorn Down valleys dreadly desolate; The lonely mountains soar in scorn As still as death, as stern as fate.