“Kill the pig! Cut his throat! Kill the pig! Bash him in!”

“Kill the pig. Cut her throat. Spill her blood.”

“His mind was crowded with memories; memories of the knowledge that had come to them when they closed in on the struggling pig, knowledge that they had outwitted a living thing, imposed their will upon it, taken away its life like a long satisfying drink.”

“Which is better--to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?”

“The officer grinned cheerfully at Ralph.'We saw your smoke. What have you been doing? Having a war or something?'Ralph nodded.The officer inspected the little scarecrow in front of him. The kid needed a bath, a haircut, a nose-wipe and a good deal of ointment.'Nobody killed, I hope? Any dead bodies?''Only two. And they've gone.'The officer leaned down and looked closely at Ralph.'Two? Killed?'Ralph nodded again. Behind him, the whole island was shuddering with flame. The officer knew, as a rule, when people were telling the truth. He whistled softly.”

“Which is better -- to be a pack of painted Indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is?Which is better -- to have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?Which is better, law and rescue, or hunting and breaking things up?”

“Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?”