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“When pressed, hunters who claim that they just want “to be out in the wilderness,�� will admit that the kill is essential—or at least the hope of a kill. As it turns out, there is no correlation between hunting and hiking, climbing, backpacking, kayaking, or any other outdoor activity. Hunters do not purposefully linger in the woods after a kill, but quickly begin the process of preparing to head home with the corpse. For hunters, the kill is the climax—the most important moment. They are not driving into the woods (or sometimes actually walking) for the sake of beauty, but in the hope of a kill.”
― Lisa Kemmerer, Speaking Up for Animals: An Anthology of Women's Voices

“He had seen the end of an era, the sunset of the pioneer. He had come upon it when already its glory was nearly spent. So in the buffalo times a traveller used to come upon the embers of a hunter's fire on the prairie, after the hunter was up and gone; the coals would be trampled out, but the ground was warm, and the flattened grass where he had slept and where his pony had grazed, told the story.
This was the very end of the road-making West; the men who had put plains and mountains under the iron harness were old; some were poor, and even the successful ones were hunting for a rest and a brief reprieve from death. It was already gone, that age; nothing could ever bring it back. The taste and smell and song of it, the visions those men had seen in the air and followed, - these he had caught in a kind of afterglow in their own faces, - and this would always be his.”
― Willa Cather, A Lost Lady

“Never concern yourself too much with gossips and those that speak against you. Remember, it is always the loudest prey that gains the trapper's attention.”
― Gillian Duce

“Do you think he looked for the house that was already decorated in black and white? I asked, wondering how we ended up with angel-palooza.

Probably. He needed a place as deep and dark as his troubled thoughts. Arum are goth like that.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, The Brightest Night

“Predators never expect to be hunted.”
― Kit Rose

“In a way that made me resent him simply because men that handsome aren't trustworthy.”
― L.J. Shen, The Hunter

“The walls were painted red, and there was the painter up ahead, that candle-maned woman carving her way through the darkness, and carving her way through everyone she thought the darkness owned.”
― Dean F. Wilson, Hopebreaker

“That first night when I was Artemis 
spread across the damp earth,
you were Orion with a 
hunter’s hand, kneeling above, 
cerulean eyes pierced with pain,
releasing an arrow through still air.
Then I dragged you into the 
hot cave of my mouth, because
I am the goddess of wild things.”
― Jennifer O. Lee

“Art gropes. It stalks like a hunter lost in the woods, listening to itself and to everything around it, unsure of itself, waiting to pounce.”
― John Gardner, On Moral Fiction

“Sympathy? Not for me. No mercy for a criminal freak in Las Vegas. This place is like the Army: the shark ethic prevails - eat the wounded. In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream

“She’ll come to love me or she won’t. I’m a fisherman, not a hunter.”
― Jarod Kintz, There are Two Typos of People in This World: Those Who Can Edit and Those Who Can't

“Hunt, it’s kind of creepy that you’re staring at me like this.”
― L.J. Shen, The Hunter

“A hunter is always all eyes and ears towards his trap. He cannot orchestrate a drama and drop into oblivion.”
― Vincent Okay Nwachukwu, Weighty 'n' Worthy African Proverbs - Volume 1

“Beloved'

His eyes contain the history of the world
Of all its inhabitants who come and go
He yields his wisdom freely for all
So human hearts may follow his well-worn tracks

Peace and grace surround him
As Nature shields him in her protective embrace
She moves through him speaking softly
Enchanting tales of her wilderness

Quietly as a leaf finds the forest floor
She brushes his cheek with faintest touch
Reminding him she is his true home
Guarding his footsteps over all terrain

She brings him comfort when darkness falls
Through flickering flames and dancing moonlight
And when he closes his eyes to sleep
She guides his dreams to his soul’s remembrance
Of life as one with the Nature he loves”
― Collette O'Mahony, The Soul in Words: A collection of Poetry & Verse

“Bruce Parisi is a skilled hunter and has been hunting in his local community for over ten years.”
― Bruce Parisi Poconos PA

“A craftsman who turned hunter to aid his people is always welcome at a warrior's campfire. Craftsmen are meticulous and methodical.”
― Christine Feehan, Dark Symphony

“In his youth, Yeva's father had been widely considered the best hunter in the land. Though there were many hunters who took advantage of the rich wilderness in the black wood, he was the only one who ventured into its heart.”
― Meagan Spooner, Hunted

“I occasionally try my luck at dry-fly casting on a Hampshire chalk stream." The earl glanced at Merritt and smiled reminiscently. "My daughter has accompanied me a time or two. She has excellent aptitude but little interest."
"I lose patience with the fish," Merritt said. "They take too long to make up their minds. I prefer going shooting with you-- it takes far less effort."
"Are you a good shot?" Keir asked.
"I'm not bad," she said modestly.
"She's the best shot in the family," Lillian said. "It drives her brothers mad.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Devil in Disguise

“A writer is a hunter, with the increase in the arousal instincts, there is an increase in sensitivity and selectivity for hunting stories.”
― Avijeet Das

“A writer is a hunter, with the increase in the arousal instincts, there is a rise in sensitivity and selectivity for hunting stories.”
― Avijeet Das

“I move around hungry, sniffing the moonlight, drifting around the hills, hunting for you, your passionate kisses, like a cougar prowling in the streets at Midnight.”
― Avijeet Das

“Gathering can be just as critical as hunting because men sometimes return with nothing, in which case the family must rely entirely on gathered foods.”
― Richard W. Wrangham, Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human

“Oh,�� Hunter said, his voice going awkward. (Ladies, the best way to get a guy off a topic is to start talking about your feelings. Remember that.) “Um, your friend is a��,�� he started.”
― K.M. Shea, Vampires Drink Tomato Juice

“For millions of years our human, and before them, hominid ancestors lived in small bands of a few hundred persons wherein the women contributed most of the calories by gathering edible plants and men provided much of the protein through hunting. Most of our behavioral predispositions were evolved to adapt us to this type of life, and not to our very different, contemporary world of computers, cars and concrete.”
― Malcolm Potts, Sex and War: How Biology Explains Warfare and Terrorism and Offers a Path to a Safer World

“Don't fall in love with me. I am not one entity. I am a multitude of phantasmagorical entities. I am the poet. I am the writer. I am the wanderer. I am the philosopher. I am the king. I am the beggar. I am the drifter. I am the hunter. I am the creator. I am the creation. I worship my gods - Bukowski, Kafka, Hemingway, Rand & Plath. I listen to my gods - Beethoven, Mozart, & Tchaikovsky! Don't fall in love with me! I am not one entity. I am a multitude of phastamagorical entities.”
― Avijeet Das

“Am I resolved to believe that Hawk’s hooked beak
will sometime be hammered into Hummingbird’s flute?”
― Seth Wieck

“The difference between being the ‘hunted�� or being the ‘hunter�� is that the former has chosen to be the target, while the latter has chosen the target.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Everything is a target, says the hunter. No matter where you look. The hunter's son says nothing, and closes his eyes.”
― Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

“Hunting a predator was the supreme challenge: It forced the predator to admit that it too was hunted. A true survival of the fittest, he thought.
From «A Lion Roars in Longyearbyen»”
― Margrét Helgadóttir

“The women moved in to carve up the caribou and soon large chunks of its meat were roasting over the fire. The gathered families threw their wood carvings into the fire pit. The little dogwood caribous burned up and the smoke curled up with the sacrificed caribou’s spirit into the night sky where it dimmed the starlight behind a hazy sheen. The men danced and prayed to the departing spirit. In song and dance they said their thanks that it gave its life for their meal. Then they portioned out the meat.”
― Max Davine, Spirits of the Ice Forest