The Will to live (n.) shows itself in animal form as a longing roused by circumstances.
The Will to live (n.) is in truth the primal animal Lamarck should have assumed — shapeless, organless, transforming itself into everything from the gnat to the elephant — and it is metaphysical, not physical.
The Will to live (n.) rejects no shape as too grotesque to attain its ends: the crossbill's twisted beak, the pelican's pouch, the owl's huge pupils and silent feathers.
The Will to live (n.) is no hypostasis or vague term: whoever asks what it is, I refer to his own inner self, where he will find it entire, in colossal dimensions, as the most real thing there is.
The Will to live (n.) everywhere preys upon itself: each animal survives only by destroying another, until man, master of all, treats nature as his factory — and turns the same war on his own kind.
The Will to live (n.) shows itself at war with itself in the bulldog ant of Australia: cut in two, the head seizes the tail in its teeth, the tail stings back, and they fight for half an hour until they die.
The Will to live (n.) is a pleonasm, for what the will always wills is life; life accompanies it as a shadow accompanies the body, so while we are filled with it we need not fear for our existence, even facing death.
The Will to live (n.) asserts itself by willing life knowingly as it was willed blindly before — the man who, seeing it all, gladly takes every hardship for its pleasures and would have it repeat for ever, fears death no more than the sun fears the night.
The Will to live (n.) is what cries "I — I — I want to exist!" — but not you alone: everything with a vestige of consciousness says it, so the cry is precisely what is not individual.
The Will to live (n.) shows itself most clearly in the cleverest animals; in man, reason brings the art of dissimulation, which throws a veil over it.
The Will to live (n.) is why the whole world greets people by wishing them a long life: not knowledge of what life is, but of what man is.