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Jack London Biography

John Griffith "Jack" London (born John Griffith Chaney; January 12, 1876 – November 22, 1916) was an American novelist, journalist, and social activist. A pioneer in the world of commercial magazine fiction, he was one of the first writers to become a worldwide celebrity and earn a large fortune from writing. He was also an innovator in the genre that would later become known as science fiction.

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Jack London Quotes

I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.

Atoms, Glow, Meteor, Permanent, Sleep, Writing Words

I write for no other purpose than to add to the beauty that now belongs to me. I write a book for no other reason than to add three or four hundred acres to my magnificent estate.

Add, Beauty, Belongs, Book, Writing

Strength is an empty shell.

Empty, Shell, Shells, Strength

Stupid women, and all are stupid, think the first winning of the man the final victory. Then they settle down and grow fat, and stale, and dead, and heartbroken. Alas, they are so stupid. But you, little infant-woman with your first victory, you must make your love-life an unending chain of victories. Each day you must win your man again. And when you have won the last victory, when you can find no more to win, then ends love. Finis is written, and your man wanders in strange gardens.

Chain, Day, Heartbroken, Love Life, Stupid, Written

As for me, you wonder why I am a socialist. I'll tell you. It is because socialism is inevitable; because the present rotten and irrational system cannot endure; because the day is past for your man on horseback. The slaves won't stand for it. They are too many, and willy-nilly they'll drag down the would-be equestrian before he gets astride. You can't get away from them, and you'll have to swallow the whole slave-morality. It's not a nice mess, I'll allow. But it's been a-brewing and swallow it you must.

Down, Drag, Men, Nice, Past, Tell

There's only one way to make a beginning, and that is to begin; and begin with hard work, and patience, prepared for all the disappointment s.

Begin, Disappoint, Hard Work, Patience, Way

Don't write too much. Concentrate your sweat on one story, rather than dissipate it over a dozen.

Writing, Sweat, Stories, Write, Concentrate, Dozen

Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!

Bike, Cycling, Life, Life Worth Living, Railroad Tracks, Worth

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.

Cadences, Dark, Dead, Night, Pointing, Stars

He had come to know quite thoroughly the world in which he lived. His outlook was bleak and materialistic. The world as he saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a world without warmth, a world in which caresses and affection and the bright sweetness of spirit did not exist.

Affection, Exist, Saws, Spirit, Warmth, World

The grapes on a score of rolling hills are red with autumn flame. Across Sonoma Mountain wisps of sea fog are stealing. The afternoon sun smoulders in the drowsy sky. I have everything to make me glad I am alive. I am filled with dreams and mysteries. I am all sun and air and sparkle. I am vitalized, organic.

Across, Autumn, Dream, Filled, Fog, Sea

Man is a flux of states of consciousness, a flow of passing thoughts, each thought of self another self, a myriad thoughts, a myriad selves, a continual becoming but never being, a will-of-the-wisp flitting of ghosts in ghostland.

Consciousness, Flow, Ghosts, Man, Men, Self

A human life the treasure of the world cannot buy; nor can it redeem one which is misspent; nor can it make full and complete and beautiful a life which is dwarfed and warped and ugly.

Beautiful, Life, Misspent, Warped, World

One cannot violate the promptings of one's nature without having that nature recoil upon itself.

Environment, Recoil, Nature, Violate, Promptings

The ghostly winter silence had given way to the great spring murmur of awakening life.

Given, Life, Silence, Spring, Winter

Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomized life as a voracious appetite, and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, merciless, planless, endless.

Blindness, Fashion, Hunting, Men, Merciless

. . . in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness -- faith in a system; and this made his damnation certain.

Besetting, Certain, Damnation, Gambling, System, Weakness

Do you know the only value life has is what life puts upon itself? And it is of course overestimated, for it is of necessity prejudiced in its own favour. Take that man I had aloft. He held on as if he were a precious thing, a treasure beyond diamonds of rubies. To you? No. To me? Not at all. To himself? Yes. But I do not accept his estimate. He sadly overrates himself. There is plenty more life demanding to be born. Had he fallen and dripped his brains upon the deck like honey from the comb, there would have been no loss to the world. The supply is too large.

Brain, Demanding, Loss, Men, Sadly, Take

A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.

Blood, Poem, Remuneration, Sell, Sweat

His conclusion was that things were not always what they appeared to be. The cub's fear of the unknown was an inherited distrust, and it had now been strengthened by experience. Thenceforth, in the nature of things, he would possess an abiding distrust of appearances.

Abiding, Appearance, Appearances, Appeared, Conclusion, Fear Of The Unknown

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