They Were Firemakers! They Were Gods! [humans]

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.

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.

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.

A Vast Silence Reigned Over The Land. The Land Itself Was A Desolation, Lifeless, Without Movement, So Lone And Cold That The Spirit Of It Was Not Even That Of Sadness. There Was A Hint In It Of Laughter, But Of Laughter More Terrible Than Any Sadness-a Laughter That Was Mirthless As The Smile Of The Sphinx, A Laughter Cold As The Frost And Partaking Of The Grimness Of Infallibility. It Was The Masterful And Incommunicable Wisdom Of Eternity Laughing At The Futility Of Life And The Effort Of Life. It Was The Wild, The Savage, Frozen-hearted Northland Wild.

It Was The Worst Hurt He Had Ever Known.