Jack London
Jack London
John Griffith "Jack" London was an American novelist, journalist, and social activist. A pioneer in the then-burgeoning world of commercial magazine fiction, he was one of the first fiction writers to obtain worldwide celebrity and a large fortune from his fiction alone...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth12 January 1876
CitySan Francisco, CA
CountryUnited States of America
life stars perfect
He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars.
song stars land
With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence. It was an old song, old as the breed itself--one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad.
stars evil flesh
I love the flesh. I'm a pagan. "Who are they who speak evil of the clay? The very stars are made of clay like mine!
stars dark night
When, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf-like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him. And his cadences were their cadences, the cadences which voiced their woe and what to them was the meaning of the stillness, and the cold, and dark.
beaten call claims compelled deep earth farther felt fire forest heard knew mankind nor thrilling turn wonder
. . . each day mankind and the claims of mankind slipped farther from him. Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest.
lurking merely suggestion though wild wolf
. . . there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.
francisco present san thousands time
San Francisco at the present time is like the crater of a volcano, around which are camped tens of thousands of refugees.
ashes atom blaze brilliant burn permanent rather sleepy spark stifled
I would rather be ashes than dust. I would rather that my spark would burn out in a brilliant blaze than be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
life puts
Do you know the only value life has is what life puts on itself?
american-novelist atom rather sleepy
I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
black covering dark either fading forest frowned frozen lean recent seemed side silence stripped towards trees vast white wind
Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light. A vast silence reigned over the land.
flaming fourth francis great half holding hotel hour past sides square stood three top union
At half past one in the morning, three sides of Union Square were in flames. The fourth side, where stood the great Hotel St. Francis, was still holding out. An hour later, ignited from top and sides, the St. Francis was flaming heavenward.
activity aspect political
There's a lot of activity going, and I think you'll find this kind of activity right now because of the political aspect of this.
explosive fall startled turned
As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to the snow, the spittle crackled.