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- Джек Лондон
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He
took
no
notice
.
"
By
that
,
I
take
it
,
you
see
something
that
is
alive
,
but
that
necessarily
does
not
have
to
live
for
ever
.
"
"
I
read
more
than
that
,
"
I
continued
boldly
.
"
Then
you
read
consciousness
.
You
read
the
consciousness
of
life
that
it
is
alive
;
but
still
no
further
away
,
no
endlessness
of
life
.
"
How
clearly
he
thought
,
and
how
well
he
expressed
what
he
thought
!
From
regarding
me
curiously
,
he
turned
his
head
and
glanced
out
over
the
leaden
sea
to
windward
.
A
bleakness
came
into
his
eyes
,
and
the
lines
of
his
mouth
grew
severe
and
harsh
.
He
was
evidently
in
a
pessimistic
mood
.
"
Then
to
what
end
?
"
he
demanded
abruptly
,
turning
back
to
me
.
"
If
I
am
immortal
--
why
?
"
I
halted
.
How
could
I
explain
my
idealism
to
this
man
?
How
could
I
put
into
speech
a
something
felt
,
a
something
like
the
strains
of
music
heard
in
sleep
,
a
something
that
convinced
yet
transcended
utterance
?
"
What
do
you
believe
,
then
?
"
I
countered
.
"
I
believe
that
life
is
a
mess
,
"
he
answered
promptly
.
"
It
is
like
yeast
,
a
ferment
,
a
thing
that
moves
and
may
move
for
a
minute
,
an
hour
,
a
year
,
or
a
hundred
years
,
but
that
in
the
end
will
cease
to
move
.
The
big
eat
the
little
that
they
may
continue
to
move
,
the
strong
eat
the
weak
that
they
may
retain
their
strength
.
The
lucky
eat
the
most
and
move
the
longest
,
that
is
all
.
What
do
you
make
of
those
things
?
"
He
swept
his
arm
in
an
impatient
gesture
toward
a
number
of
the
sailors
who
were
working
on
some
kind
of
rope
stuff
amidships
.
"
They
move
,
so
does
the
jelly-fish
move
.
They
move
in
order
to
eat
in
order
that
they
may
keep
moving
.
There
you
have
it
.
They
live
for
their
belly
's
sake
,
and
the
belly
is
for
their
sake
.
It
's
a
circle
;
you
get
nowhere
.
Neither
do
they
.
In
the
end
they
come
to
a
standstill
.
They
move
no
more
.
They
are
dead
.
"
