Not All The Monsters Have Fangs.

He Was A Killer, A Thing That Preyed, Living On The Things That Lived, Unaided, Alone, By Virtue Of His Own Strength And Prowess, Surviving Triumphantly In A Hostile Environment Where Only The Strong Survive.

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.

San Francisco Is Gone. Nothing Remains Of It But Memories.

Somehow, The Love Of The Islands, Like The Love Of A Woman, Just Happens. One Cannot Determine In Advance To Love A Particular Woman, Nor Can One So Determine To Love Hawaii.

Mercy Did Not Exist In The Primordial Life. It Was Misunderstood For Fear, And Such Misunderstandings Made For Death.