They Were Firemakers! They Were Gods! [humans]

One Cannot Violate The Promptings Of One's Nature Without Having That Nature Recoil Upon Itself.

When, On The Still Cold Nights, He Pointed His Nose At A Star And Howled Long And Wolf-like, It Was His Ancestors, Dead And Dust, Pointing Nose At Star And Howling Down Through The Centuries And Through Him. And His Cadences Were Their Cadences, The Cadences Which Voiced Their Woe And What To Them Was The Meaning Of The Stillness, And The Cold, And Dark.

White Fang Knew The Law Well: To Oppress The Weak And Obey The Strong.

Some Sorts Of Truth Are Truer Than Others.

I Remembered My Days And Nights Of Sunshine And Starshine, Where Life Was All A Wild Sweet Wonder, A Spiritual Paradise Of Unselfish Adventure And Ethical Romance. And I Saw Before Me, Ever Blazing And Burning, The Holy Grail.