Quotes About Hunting

My brother got a .22 for his 12th birthday I got a .22. He got a hunting knife I got a hunting knife.

The lion is ashamed, it's true, when he hunts with the fox.

Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter. —"On the Blue Water: A Gulf Stream Letter," Ernest Hemingway, Esquire, April 1936

Cazador: si vas de caza Por los montes del Señor, Teme que a los pájaros venguen Hondas heridas de amor.

I was told he could never go back, for he had shot his own grandfather out hunting and his family would impale him if he fell into their hands. Turks are never convinced by a hunting accident, especially if it is the heir who removes the owner of numerous flocks. All the same, Joseph was an honourable knight; perhaps his grandfather really did look like a deer.

I put a bullet into the back of the crocodile's neck just behind the head, thus killing it. If a crocodile is hit in any other part of its anatomy it disappears into the water and is irrecoverable.

For some of Britain's most powerful people, hunting and shooting are primordial rights, and any challenge to them is treated as illegitimate. They assert ownership not only of the land but also of the social relationships surrounding it.

We truly have an ancient part of the brain that was about survival when we were prey but we seem to have gone past prey. We eat everything and nothing eats us.

I was a kid that grew up in the South and was always outdoors fishing and hunting and, you know, swimming in the pool during the summer.

There's nothing wrong with hunting, in its place. But there are many preferable occupations when in the presence of a young woman.

He was out hunting for Cortman. It had become a relaxing hobby, hunting for Cortman; one of the few diversions left to him.

Artemis grit her teeth. I need a favor. I have some hunting to do, alone. I need you to take my companions to Camp Half-Blood. Sure Sis! then he raised his hands in a stop everything gesture. I feel a haiku comIng on. The Hunters all groaned. Apparently they'd met Apollo before. He cleared his throat and held up one hand dramatically. Green grass breaks through snow. Artemis pleads for my help. I am so awesome.

Happiness and a love of fun are not coextensive, and their relationship may even be divergent. If one were happy, then one might stay in with a book, say, and not go out hunting for fun.

Oh my God. You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong. He gave me a sidelong smile. Maybe it's not that kind of hunting. Then you're definitely doing it wrong.

The three Fs of being a werewolf, Feeding, Fighting, and...Reproduction

Hunting humans for sport? Eating them? the bitterness in his voice cut through me. Yeah, I caught that part. That doesn't have anything to do with you? He lifted his eyes, gaze shuttered. No? Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf AND a redneck moron.

At the time, it seemed to me that Jeremy was spending a lot of time with a piece of plastic pressed against his ear, talking to himself. Which was fine by me. We all have our eccentricities. Jeremy liked talking to plastic; I liked hunting and eating the rats that ventured into the motel room. Or, at least I did like hunting and eating the rats, until Jeremy caught me and promptly kiboshed that hobby. Some of us are less tolerant of eccentricities than others.

The interior looked like I expected. Two rooms--a main one and a tiny bedroom. Dusty stuffed fish and moth-eaten elk heads on bare walls. A wood plank floor that seemed as if it hadn't been swept in years. Cobwebs decorating the ceiling. Furniture that would have been rejected by Goodwill. Mouse droppings everywhere. A few dark furry bat forms hung from the upper eaves. In the city, the place would have been condemned as a public health hazard. Here, it was just a typical hunting shack.

Only humans kill for sport.

You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you, Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong." He gave me a sidelong smile. "Maybe it's not that kind of hunting." "Then you're definitely doing it wrong.

Deer hunting would be fine sport, if only the deer had guns.

Springes to catch woodcocks.

The chase, the sport of kings;Image of war, without its guilt.

On another memorable hunt, a lone mallard came in. Jase told Phil, "Let's let Willie take this one." Now, I know why he said it. Jase was convinced I would raise my gun and miss. Well, I raised my gun and folded it. Phil looked at Jase and said, "Ol' Willie's been practicing." We laughed and talked about my shot the entire morning.