“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!”
“Poor Thidwick sank down, with a groan, to his knees. And then, then came something that made his heart freeze. Bullets came zinging right past Thidwick’s face!”
“Most beasts are quite friendly, but still, in some lands, some beasts are too dangerous to catch with bare hands. For those that are ugly and vicious and mean I’ll build a Bad-Animal-Catching-Machine. It’s rather expensive to build such a kit, but with it a hunger can never get bit.”
“Now the one thing that Mr. Gregg and his two boys loved to do more than anything else was to go hunting. Every Saturday morning they would take their guns and go off into the woods to look for animals and birds to shoot. Even Philip, who was only eight years old, had a gun of his own.”
“The baby owls thought (all owls think a lot)-
‘I think she’s gone hunting,’ said Sarah.
‘To get us our food!’ said Percy.
‘I want my mummy! said Bill”
“The Great Storm-Cat grew quiet: gone was his hunger for hunting, for making his meal of the mice-men.
Only the pleasure of the purring remained.
Then the Great Storm-Cat began to purr with Mowzer, and as the soft sound grew, the winds waned and the waves weakened.”
“As she listened to his wailing, Mowzer felt a sudden strange sadness for him. How lonely he must be, she thought, endlessly hunting the men-mice in the deeps of darkness, and never returning to the rosy glow of a red-hot range. And her kind heart was moved to comfort him.”
“Every summer Stina visited her grandfather in his house by the sea. And every summer she went treasure hunting. Smooth sticks, sea stars, feathers, there was so much to be found.”
“Why, a stag is called a brocket until he is three years old, at four years he is a staggart; at five years a warrantable stag; and after five years he becomes a hart royal.”
“Fog Benson had captured him when the cub was six months old. He had killed Ben’s mother and brought the young bear to town to show him off. And because Ben had cried for hours for his lost mother, Fog had laughingly named him ‘Squeaky Ben,’ after a local character with a querulous voice. As the cub grew and it became apparent his size would be tremendous, the ‘Squeaky’ part was dropped.”
“Storm Boy” explores the relationship between a boy and his friend, even when the friend is a pelican, as well as touching on hunting, conservation, and the isolation, remoteness, and hardships of parts of Australia.
“From far away there came a deep rolling sound, and a screaming cheer. The otter instantly returned to her cubs and stood over them in a protective attitude, for she knew that hounds were hunting the water.”
“The tree was a friend to all, and it had one human friend, who as a child had seen it first when trailing in summer after her father hunting the otters of the brook.”