Frases de Jack London

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“Un hueso para el perro no es caridad. La caridad es el hueso compartido con el perro cuando estás tan hambriento como el perro.”

“Lo Salvaje aún permanecía en él y el lobo en él simplemente dormía.”

“¡Prefiero ser cenizas que polvo! Prefiero que mi chispa se apague en un resplandor brillante a que sea sofocada por la podredumbre seca. Preferiría ser un soberbio meteoro, cada átomo de mí en magnífico resplandor, que un planeta adormecido y permanente. La función apropiada del hombre es vivir, no existir. No desperdiciaré mis días tratando de prolongarlos. Aprovecharé mi tiempo.”

“Yo no vivo de lo que el mundo piensa en mí, sino por lo que pienso de mí mismo.”

“Luchamos mejor, morimos mejor y vivimos mejor por aquello que amamos.”

“Thornton tenía la duda pintada claramente en el semblante, pero aquello despertó su espíritu de lucha, el que hace crecer al hombre ante las dificultades, le impide aceptar lo imposible y lo hace sordo a todo lo que no sea el clamor de la batalla.”

“Sus pies son hermosos, sus ojos radiantes, sus brazos y sus pechos son el paraìso, su encanto supera todas las maravillas que jamàs hayan deslumbrado al hombre; y, del mismo modo que el imàn arrastra inevitablemente al metal, la mujer arrastra inevitablemente a los hombres.”

“La naturaleza tiene muchas artimañas para convencer al hombre de su finitud —el incesante fluir de las mareas, la furia de la tormenta, la sacudida del terremoto, el largo retumbar de la artillería del cielo—, pero la más tremenda, la más sorprendente de todas es la fase pasiva del silencio blanco. Cesa todo movimiento, el aire se despeja, los cielos se vuelven de latón; el más pequeño susurro parece un sacrilegio, y el hombre se torna tímido, asustado del sonido de su propia voz. Única señal de vida que viaja a través de las espectrales inmensidades de un mundo muerto, tiembla ante su propia audacia, se da cuenta de que su vida no vale más que la de un gusano. Surgen extraños pensamientos no llamados, y el misterio de todas las cosas pugna por darse a conocer. Y el temor a la muerte, a Dios, al universo, se apodera de él, la esperanza en la resurrección y la vida, su deseo de inmortalidad, la lucha vana de la esencia aprisionada. Entonces, si alguna vez ocurre, el hombre camina solo con Dios.”

“El anciano meneó tristemente la cabeza. —Volverá a empezar la misma historia hablándose a sí mismo—. Los hombres se multiplicarán, y luego lucharán unos contra otros. Cuando hayan redescubierto la pólvora se matarán a miles, y luego a millones. Y así, por medio del fuego y de la sangre, se formará una nueva civilización.”

“Los hombres inteligentes son crueles. Los hombres estúpidos son monstruosamente crueles.”

“Sabía que era inútil interponerse entre un necio y su necedad.”

“Y como Black Leclère era también un demonio, los dos formaban una buena pareja.”

“Estaban vivos a medias, o quizá menos.”

“Sé que el linaje humano está destinado a retroceder más y más en la noche de los tiempos primitivos, antes de que vuelva a iniciarse la ascensión sangrienta hacia aquello que llamamos la civilización.”

“Estaba celoso; por eso me encantó.”

“No cabía predecir lo que había de suceder, porque, con todo lo dotado de vida, las cosas ocurrían siempre, por una razón u otra, de modo distinto.”

“¿La vida? ¡Bah! No tiene ningún valor. Dentro de lo barato, es de lo más barato.”

“Mi error fue abrir los libros.”

“A medida que uno se debilita, uno es menos susceptible al sufrimiento. Hay menos dolor porque hay menos que pueda ser herido.”

“These women, capable of the most sublime emotions, of the tenderest sympathies, were openmouthed and screaming. They wanted to live, they were helpless, likes rats in a trap, and they screamed.”

“There are, broadly speaking, two types of drinkers. There is the man whom we all know, stupid, unimaginative, whose brain is bitten numbly by numb maggots; who walks generously with wide-spread, tentative legs, falls frequently in the gutter, and who sees, in the extremity of his ecstasy, blue mice and pink elephants…. The other type of drinker has imagination, vision. Even when most pleasantly jingled he walks straight and naturally, never staggers nor falls, and knows just where he is and what he is doing. It is not his body but his brain that is drunken.”

“And through it all, calm and impassive, leaning on his elbow and gazing down, Wolf Larsen seemed lost in a great curiosity. This wild stirring of yeasty life, this terrific revolt and defiance of matter that moved, perplexed and interested him.”

“"I only remember one part of the service," he said, "and that is 'And the body shall be cast into the sea.'”

“"The cap'n is Wolf Larsen, or so men call him. I never heard his other name. But you better speak soft with him. He is mad this morning. The mate-" But he did not finish. The cook had glided in.”

“Men do not knowingly drink for the effect alcohol produces on the body. What they drink for is the brain-effect; and if it must come through the body, so much the worse for the body.”

“Life achieves its summit when it does to the uttermost that which it was equipped to do.”

“The loneliness of the man is slowly being borne in upon me. There is not a man aboard but hates or fears him, nor is there a man whom he does not despise.”

“Wolf - tis what he is. He's not blackhearted like some men. 'Tis no heart he has at all. Wolf. just Wolf, tis what he is. D'ye wonder he's well named?”

“"My vision is clear and far. I could almost believe in God. But" - and his voice changed and the light went out of his face - "what is this condition in which I find myself? This joy of living? This exultation of life? This inspiration, I may well call it? It comes when there is nothing wrong with one's digestion, when the stomach is in trim and and his appetite has an edge, and all goes well."”

“Concerning his own rages, I am convinced that they are not real, that they are sometimes experiments, but that in the main they are the habits of a pose or attitude he has seen fit to take toward his fellowman.”

“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.”

“Too much is written by the men who can't write about the men who do write.”

“Much of this he strove to express to Ruth, and shocked her and made it clear that more remodelling was necessary. Hers was that common insularity of mind that makes human creatures believe that their color, creed, and politics are best and right and that other human creatures scattered over the world are less fortunately placed than they. It was the same insularity of mind that made the ancient Jew thank God he was not born a woman, and sent the modern missionary god-substituting to the ends of the earth; and it made Ruth desire to shape this man from other crannies of life into the likeness of the men who lived in her particular cranny of life.”

“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!””

“The great driving force of the oligarchs is the belief that they are doing right.”