The longer they elude you, the more satisfying the catch.[to Zeff]
The Hunt is not only about death. No. It’s about life, too.[to Jonah]
The dinosaurs should know when the mammal is hunting.
She might’ve been a prostitute, she might not. Might’ve liked a drink, might not. But nobody, whoever they are, deserves to die like Wilma died last night. It starts now. 4pm October 30th, and it don’t end until one of us catches the bastard.
Nature is to be hunted.
Hunting a man is no great thing. They are slow and predictable. They can be found always where their appetites lead them. To eat, to sleep, to f***. Man is no great thing.
Hunters are born to hunt. Dungeons are worlds where survival is all that matters, and a hunter has to be prepared to become prey at any time. That’s because there’s no telling when the roles might be reversed. You’re always one step away from death. But hunters are still willing to fight, no matter how many enemies they face, or how much stronger those enemies might be. They’ve all got different reasons for fighting. To protect their family. To uphold their ideals. To prove who they are. To defy fate. So hunters continue to hunt. And none of them are ready to stop.
Everybody makes mistakes, even vampire hunters, even doctors.
