Author of quotes: Jack London

A woman enchants our feelings, and from this passion is born, which is a kind of super sense.

The official religion for the people was, in her opinion, a tool necessary to force millions of slaves to obediently bend their backs.

I myself did not understand anything, and I did not strive to understand, since I always lived only in the present and left others to speculate and be tormented by anxiety about the future.

Like alcohol, she ignited his feelings, like a drug, she whipped up his imagination and lifted him above the clouds.

Martin's thoughts hovered far away, almost beyond consciousness. From time to time he made an effort to say something to Joe. But he loved Joe. But Joe was too full of life, and contact with him was now painful for Martin. It was too much of a burden for his tired soul.

He was too tired to think, and was already beginning to feel disgusted with himself, as if he had done something shameful and irreparable. Everything elevated in him was suppressed, his ambition was dulled, and his vitality weakened so much that he no longer felt any aspirations. He was dead. His soul was dead. He became just a beast, a working beast. He no longer noticed any beauty in the sunshine that pierced the green foliage, and the depth of the heavenly azure no longer excited him and did not evoke thoughts of the cosmos, full of mysterious mysteries that he so wanted to solve. Life was dull and meaningless, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. A black blanket was thrown over the screen of his imagination, and his fantasy languished, driven into a dark closet, into which not a single ray of light penetrated.

<...> the whole difference between these lawyers, officers, businessmen, bankers, on the one hand, and people of the working class, on the other, is based on the fact that they eat, live and dress differently. All of them equally lacked the very main thing that he found in books and felt in himself.

And yet he wanted to live. It would be foolish to die after all that he had endured. Fate demanded too much from him. Even when he died, he did not submit to death. Perhaps it was pure madness, but even in the clutches of death he challenged her and fought her.

He no longer struggled the way people struggle. It was the very life in him that did not want to perish and drove him forward.

You cannot trust illusions - you always have to pay for them, and that only reality never lies.

When you are painfully tired of life, death is ready to calm you down, to give you eternal sleep.

Who's dead won't get up!

Music has always influenced him strongly. She, like a strong wine, heated his feelings, intoxicated his imagination and carried him to the sky-high heights. He seemed to grow wings. The unsightly reality ceased to exist, giving way to the beautiful and extraordinary.

To invent mortal sins, it was necessary for man, with his imagination and his power over matter.