A Quote by Jack London

I love the flesh. I'm a pagan. "Who are they who speak evil of the clay? The very stars are made of clay like mine!" — © Jack London
I love the flesh. I'm a pagan. "Who are they who speak evil of the clay? The very stars are made of clay like mine!"
This clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine,Surely such clay is more than half divine--'Tis only fools speak evil of the clay,The very stars are made of clay like mine.
I think it's fun to play on hard courts, you know. I think it's a surface that also can suit my game even though this year has been mainly clay, clay, clay all the year.
I used anything, various materials; this is wood, and this is mixed up clay, wedged together, clay with glazes and stuff like that.
When she saw my messy desk, she said she was the same way, and there was no dust on the TV, and I was easy to love. People just need a little help because they are so used to not loving. It's like scoring the clay to make another piece of clay stick to it.
I feel like I'm playing some of my best tennis on clay. I'm sliding a lot, moving a lot. I know how to adjust to the surface, so I'm loving the clay.
But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
With memoir, you have the clay of your life to work with. When you're writing a novel, you have to make the clay first.
The living thing is not the clay molded by the potter, nor the harp played upon by the musician. It is the clay modeling itself.
I've had good results on clay during my junior years and I enjoy playing on clay to the opposite of what many media can say.
Humanity is our common lot. All men are made of the same clay. There is no difference, at least here on Earth, in the fate assigned to us. We come of the same void, inhabit the same flesh, are dissolved in the same ashes. But ignorance infecting the human substance turns it black, and that incurable blackness, gaining possession of the soul, becomes Evil.
For as from the same piece of clay a potter may fashion either a pot or a tile, so the Devil may shape a witch into a wolf or a cat or even a goat, without subtracting from her and without adding to her at all. For this occurs just as clay is first molded into one, then shaped into another form, for the Devil is a potter and his witches are but clay.
... is there anything more unjust than to build gold and brass and iron on poor, well-meaning clay, -- and then blame the clay when the whole image falls into dust?
In creation myths, a god shapes mud or clay into living form, much like a potter throws a pot or a sculptor reveals the statue within a block of marble. But a writer has to create his own clay or stone before he can begin shaping life from it.
Maybe I have to work a bit harder on clay. It's a challenge and I've always liked challenges. Whether I will ever win the French and master playing on clay, who knows? But I'll give it a shot.
If we choose to be no more than clods of clay, then we shall be used as clods of clay for braver feet to tread on.
I think I am a complete player. I can play well on all the surfaces. For me, the clay might be easiest, but I am not a specialist on clay.
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