“The first year he wished he was dead. The second year he cursed God.
The third year he was divided between the two emotions, and in the confusion quarreled with a man in authority. He had the best of the quarrel, though the man in authority had the last word; a word that sent Neil Bonner into an exile that made his old billet appear as paradise. But he went without a whimper, because the North had succeeded in making him into a man… In the day his lips were compressed, his face stern; but in the night he clenched his hands, rolled about in his blankets, and cried aloud like a little child. And he would remember a certain man in authority and curse him through the long hours. Also, he cursed God. But God understands. He cannot find it in His heart to blame weak mortals who blaspheme in Alaska.”
– Jack London,