"He had settled into the gray funk deeper and deeper, until finally, in the dark, he had gone up on the ridge and taken the hatchet and tried to end it by cutting himself." (Paulsen 116)
"He would not forget his first hit. Not ever a round-shaped fish, with golden sides, sides as gold as the sun, stopped in front of the arrow and he aimed just beneath it, at the bottom edge of the fish, and released the arrow and there was a bright flurry, a splash of gold in the water. He grabbed the arrow and raised it up and the fish wad on the end, wiggled against the blue sky." (Paulsen 119)
"...he had grabbed a handful of sand and thrown it at the skunk. "Get out of here..." he was going to say more, some silly human words, but in less than half a second the skunk had snapped it's rear end up, curved the tail over, and sprayed Brian with a direct shot aimed at his head from less than four feet away." (Paulsen 122-123)
"When he had first started dropping the rocks all the fish had darted away. But his fish-trash pile of bones and skin and guts was in the pond area and the prospect of food brought them back. Soon, under an hour, there were thirty or forty small fish in the enclosure and Brian made a gate by weaving small willows into a fine mesh and close them in." (Paulsen 128)
"The bird had say and he had lunged and the two points took the bird back down and killed it almost instantly." (Paulsen 134)
"Never. Never in all the food, in all the hamburgers and malts, in all the fries or meals at home, never in all the candy or pies or cakes, never in all the roasts or steaks or pizzas, never in all the submarine sandwiches, never never never had he tasted anything as fine as that first bite." (Paulsen 137)
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