Hunter's Horn Quotes

“He could not sit still, but got up, clutching the rifle in his sweaty hands. The good Lord God in heaven could damn his soul to hell if he didn't make an end of that red-tailed bastard tonight; and he, Nunnely Ballew, could be a man again, working his land and raising his family, instead of a piece of pore white trash getting drunk under the stars, and cursing the coming of daylight because every bone in his body ached for sleep. To hell with his loud brags and all the fine things he had said back yonder five years ago when Zing first got scent of King Devil. He'd thought then it was a red fox he had to catch, not a red devil.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“But the thing was not leaves but a great red fox, brightened by the sun. As if eager for her to see him, he stood still among the red leaves, head turned toward her, fiery-tipped brush lifted, mouth open, happily, pleasantly, like a dog. He looked at her and she at him; he was so close she could see the hairs in his eyebrows, the teeth shining in his half-open mouth, and the green fire in his coolly appraising eyes; with the red sunlight playing on his lifted tail, his back and shoulders, his pointed ears, he looked big, big as a half-grown cow; she looked more closely and saw the nicked left ear. King Devil it was, the fox Nunn had chased in hatred and in anger for the last five years; he had stolen from every family in the country, led many hounds to their death; every hunter was sworn to kill him; many had seen him long enough to learn his mark, but never had he stood so still and close as this. With a last cool glance, he dropped his head and picked up a hen, one of Nancy's White Rocks, fresh-dead and limber.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“Sue Annie sighed. “Child, th world cain't git along without doorsills to walk on; that's why th good God made women; but it's allus seemed to me that all women, when they die, they ought to go to heaven; they never have much down here but hell.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“Milly nodded absent-mindedly and stared into the fire. She was thinking now of Suse, busily bossing the candy and crackerjack making in the kitchen. Aye, Lord, it would be better never to have a girl child; they saw nothing but pain and trouble and work, and so many went wrong, or else married some good-for-nothing little feist when they were too little to know that kisses come easier than victuals and that a houseful of youngens comes easiest of all.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“I recken Nunn's gone, too,” Lureenie said as they walked along. Her voice rose in shrill anger. “Rans went a fox-hunten with th others, an him with nary a hound, an I heared em a comen an I went to th door an he stopped jist long enough to tell me he wasnt' comen in. Aimen to foller that gigglen fool of a Willie Cooksey over th river to J. D. Duffey's still; that's where they was a goen.” She added bitterly, “An in all this cold an th youngens all croupy an not but two sticks a wood for th fireplace, an th ax so dull I cain't make it cut, an him spenden money for that foxhound, an then liquor an hardly a bite to eat in th—” She stopped and bit her lip and walked quickly ahead.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“She flushed and looked away and saw on Sue Annie's wash bench, packed tightly in the scant space and perspiring from the heat, a row of the neighbor women, school mothers Sue Annie had put near the hearth in a place of honor...Suse studied them, then shivered and looked away; she would never be like that, dull and dead and uncaring; she thought of Milly sleeping at home; she would fit well with the others on the bench. Had she or any of them ever heard the trains blow far away and sad, calling you to come away, calling so clearly you wanted to cry? Or had they ever wanted to run and run through the woods on a windy moonlight night in spite of what God would thin and the neighbors say? How could they sit so quietly now? How?”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn

“Lureenie smiled, almost gaily. "Me, I don't want to last a long time. I think I'd like to go out like a cedar bush in a brush pile than wear out slow like a door sill."
Sue Annie sighed. "Child, the world cain't git along without doorsills to walk on; that's why the good God made women; but it's allus seemed to me that all women, when they die they ought to go to heaven; they never had much down here but hell."
"Aw, Sue Annie," Milly said,"men has their troubles too."
Sue Annie spat into the fire. "Nothen hurts a man much; if it does, it kills him.”
― Harriette Simpson Arnow, Hunter's Horn