Some men are mere hunters; others are turkey hunters.
It has always seemed to me that any man is a better man for being a hunter. This sport confers a certain constant alertness, and develops a certain ruggedness of character....Moreover, it allies us to the pioneer past. In a deep sense, this great land of ours was won for us by hunters.
You should remember that though another may have more money, beauty, and brains than you, when it comes to the rarer spiritual values such as charity, self-sacrifice, honor, nobility of heart, you have an equal chance with everyone to be the most beloved and honored of all people.
It is my fixed conviction that if a parent can give his children a passionate and wholesome devotion to the outdoors, the fact that he cannot leave each of them a fortune does not really matter so much.
It takes solitude under the stars, for us to be reminded of our eternal origin and our far destiny.
Familiarity with nature never breeds contempt. The more one learns, the more one expects surprises, and the more one becomes aware of the inscrutable.
If there is anything in life in which I take a pardonable pride, it is my friendship for certain old woodsmen and hunters; obscure men, as far as the world is concerned, but faithful friends, loyal comrades.
The turkey's eyes are such that he can see a bumblebee turn a somersault on the verge of the horizon.
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