| Quote | Author | Source | Email Quote |
|---|
| One cannot violate the promptings of one's nature without having that nature recoil upon itself. | Jack London | White Fang |  |
| . . . there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept. | Jack London | White Fang | |
| He was a ferocious man. He had been ill-made in the making. He had not been born right, and he had not been helped any by the moulding he had received at the hands of society. The hands of society are harsh, and this man was a striking sample of its handiwork. | Jack London | White Fang | |
| 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. | Jack London | White Fang | |
