Quotes by : Robert W. Service

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;While high overhead, green,....

Have you suffered, starved and triumphed, grovelled down, yet grasped at glory,Grown bigger in the bigness....

A promise made is a debt unpaid.

Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wantingSo much as just finding the gold.It's the great, big, broad land....

I have no doubt at all the Devil grins,As seas of ink I spatter. Ye gods, forgive my "literary" sins....

It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones who win in the lifelong race.

The happy man is he who knows his limitations yet bows to no false gods.

There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still;So they break the hearts of kith....

There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting; It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold....

A half-dead thing in a stark dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold.