He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.
He was sounding the deeps of his nature, and of the parts of his nature that were deeper than he, going back into the womb of Time.
Love, genuine passionate love, was his for the first time.
But nobody else ever romped with White Fang. He did not permit it. He stood on his dignity, and when they attempted it, his warning snarl and bristling mane were anything but playful. That he allowed the master these liberties was no reason that he should be a common dog, loving here and loving there, everybody's property for a romp and good time. He loved with single heart and refused to cheapen himself or his love.
Out of this pack-persecution he learned two important things: how to take care of himself in a mass-fight against him; and how, on a single dog, to inflict the greatest amount of damage in the briefest space of time.
And not only did he learn by experience, but instincts long dead became alive again. The domesticated generations fell from him. In vague ways he remembered back to the youth of the breed, to the time the wild dogs ranged in packs through the primeval forest and killed their meat as they ran it down.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
San Francisco at the present time is like the crater of a volcano, around which are camped tens of thousands of refugees.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories