You can't teach a hunter it's wrong to kill.
Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.
Men enjoy being thought of as hunters, but are generally too lazy to hunt. Women, on the other hand, love to hunt, but would rather nobody knew it.
The French manner of hunting is gentlemanlike; ours is only for bumpkins and bodies. The poor beasts here are pursued and run downby much greater beasts than themselves; and the true British fox-hunter is most undoubtedly a species appropriated and peculiar to this country, which no other part of the globe produces.
Successful hunting, it could be said, is an act of terminal empathy: the kill depends on how successfully a hunter inserts himself into the umwelt of his prey--even to the point of disguising himself as that animal and mimicking its behavior.
The lover's pleasure, like that of the hunter, is in the chase, and the brightest beauty loses half its merit, as the flower its perfume, when the willing hand can reach it too easily. There must be doubt; there must be difficulty and danger.
I think it may have been Tom Wolfe (if it wasn't, my apologies, Tom, and my apologies to whoever it was) who said in print once, 'David Carradine lives the life that Hunter Thompson only writes about.'
About a hundred or so years before you were born, a Dark-Hunter made the mistake of falling in love with his Talpina. Unfortunately for the rest of us, she didn’t pass Artemis’s test. Artemis was so angry, she stepped in and banished the Talpinas from us, and implemented the oh so wonderful you’re-only-supposed-to-sleep-with-them-once rule. As further backlash, Acheron came up with the never-touch-your-Squire law. I tell you, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried to find a decent one-night stand in seventh-century Britain. (Talon)
Sorry excuses for hunters and friends. Both of us.
There were Arcadians here, Katagaria, Dark-Hunters, demons, humans, and who knew what else. By rights none of them should get along and yet they were together tonight. Bound by something other than blood. They were bound together by their hearts.’ (Gallagher)
So tell me, do you want Simi to be your family? (Simi) Yes, Simi, I would like to be your family. (Gallagher) Good. You’re such a smart Dark-Hunter.(Simi)
Don’t you want Simi to be your family?...This is the part where you say, ‘Yes, Simi, I would like to be your family.’ ‘Cause if you don’t, then I’ll have to take my mitt back and barbecue you. Akri is still upset about the last Dark-Hunter I barbecued and that was…oh, a thousand or so years ago. He part elephant when it comes to remembering things. (Simi)
Hey. (She took his chin in her hand so that she could move his head back and forth while she examined him.) You’re hurting in there. That would make akri very sad. He doesn’t like for his Dark-Hunters to hurt and the Simi don’t like it when akri is sad. Why are you hurt? (Simi)
Okay, gimmi a kiss and I’ll go. (Simi) Not in front of the Hunter, Simi. (Acheron) The Simi wants a kiss, akri. I’ll wait all century. You know I will. (Simi)
What an alliance, huh? A Dark-Hunter and a Spathi united to guard an Apollite. Who would have ever imagined? (Wulf) Love makes strange bedfellows. (Acheron) I thought that was politics. (Wulf) It’s both. (Acheron)
I’m going back to bed,” Grandma said when Mooner and Dougie left. “This doesn’t look too interesting. I liked it better the other night when you were on the floor with the bounty hunter.” Morelli gave me the same kind of look Desi always gave Lucy when she’d just done something incredibly stupid. “It’s a long story,” I said. “I bet.
A rollicking good read-THE HUNTER is steampunk with a Wild West feel. Theresa Meyers is an entertaining and witty writer with a fresh, new voice in the genre. THE HUNTER is a fun-filled ride through a world of demons, vampires, and things that go bump in the night, and kept me turning pages until the very end.
Then he said in his most excellent Mick impression, "Your powers are useless against Ninja Lords, O great zombie hunter! Surrender or feel the sting of the shuriken!
You like rock? Little boy, I’m not your friend. I’m not your Dark-Hunter and I’m not your friggin’ date. You only speak to me when I ask you a question. Otherwise you keep your mouth shut, your eyes off me, and you might live long enough to get me to the French Quarter. (Zarek)
Women may get to wear lots of pretty colors, but men get the comfortable shoes. Anita Blake Vampire Hunter
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