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

— Robert W. Service

No man can be a failure if he thinks he's a success; If he thinks he is a winner, then he is.

— Robert W. Service

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.

— Robert W. Service

Of Books and Scribes there are no ends:This Plague--and who can doubt it? Dismays me so, I've sadly penned Another book about it.

— Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold;The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, But the queerest they ever did see Was that night on the marge of Lake Le barge I cremated Sam McGee.

— Robert W. Service

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 and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.

— Robert W. Service

There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting; It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land ’way up yonder, It’s the forests where silence has lease; It’s the beauty that thrills me with wonder, It’s the stillness that fills me with peace.

— Robert W. Service

The Wanderlust has got me... by the belly-aching fire

— Robert W. Service

This is the Law of the Yukon that only the strong shall thrive That surely the weak shall perish and only the fit survive.

— Robert W. Service

Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting So much as just finding the gold. It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder, It's the forests where silence has leased;It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder, It's the stillness that fills me with peace.

— Robert W. Service