“You see, I read all books on hunting published in English, French, and Russian. I have but one passion in my life, Mr. Rainsford, and it is the hunt.”
“Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call `a sporting proposition.′ It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. There is no greater bore than perfection.”
“And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life.”
“I forget the rest of the gym and the victors and how miserable I am and lose myself in the shooting. When I manage to take down five birds in one round, I realize it’s so quiet I can hear each one hit the floor. I turn and see the majority of the victors have stopped to watch me. Their faces show everything from envy to hatred to admiration.”
“Heart pounding, adrenaline burning through me, everyone is my enemy. Except Gale. My hunting partner, the person who has my back. There’s nothing to do but move forward, killing whoever come into our path.”
“Then the thought of killing a wild boar in single-handed combat struck him dumb with wonder. Why, he would never have dreamed such a thing in Hikueru! He was Mafatu, the Boy Who Was Afraid.”
“There is a patience of the wild—dogged, tireless, persistent as life itself—that holds motionless for endless hours the spider in its web, the snake in its coils, the panther in its ambuscade; this patience belongs peculiarly to life when it hunts its living food.”
“His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.”
“We start out a million years ago in a small community on some grassy plain; we hunt animals, have children, and develop a rich social, sexual, and intellectual life, but we know almost nothing about our surroundings.”
“They would remain until the bark ran out, then travel north past the wolves’ territory, and perhaps into the faerie lands of Prythian - where no mortals would dare go, not unless they had a death wish.”
“This looks just like a honey tree. And ... it feels just like a honey tree. And... it goes ‘Buzz! Buzz!’ like a honey tree. And... it tastes just like a honey tree!”