Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle quotes

In peace he had lived with Dango the hyena, Sheeta the leopard and Numa the lion. Man alone had made war upon him.

Man, who holds the unique distinction among created things of making war on all living creatures, even to his own kind.

Man, the ruthless; man, the pitiless; man, the most hated living organism that Nature has evolved.

“We have offered thee peace and profits, Nasrany,” he said, “but if thou wouldst have war let it be war. Thou art in our power and remember that dead enemies are harmless. Think it over.” And to Fahd: “Take him away and bind his feet.”

“Be careful, Muslim,” warned Tarzan, “the arms of the ape-man are long⁠—they may reach out even in death and their fingers encircle your throat.”

“Thou shalt have until dark to decide, Nasrany, and thou mayest know that Ibn Jad will not turn back until he hath that for which he came.”

A black porter caught his foot in an entangling creeper and stumbled, throwing his load to the ground.

Of such trivialities are crises born.

This one altered the entire life of James Hunter Blake, young, rich, American, hunting big game for the first time in Africa with his friend Wilbur Stimbol who, having spent three weeks in the jungle two years before, was naturally the leader of the expedition …

“You? He will not go.”

“I am Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle,” replied the ape-man. “The word of Tarzan is law in the jungle.”

Stimbol, who had been watching, was under the impression that the man and the beast were growling at one another and that a new duel impended.

“Yes, tell us,” roared Malud, “thou, indeed, shouldst know.”

“You said a mouthful, old scout, I do know!”

“And what be necessary that you may quickly serve fresh pig?” demanded Malud, looking about him and winking.

Then it was that one stepped from among those at Malud’s side and walked to Blake. It was Guinalda.

“Sir James,” she said with a sweet smile, “thou spokest with thy mouth full!”

She broke into a merry laugh. “Walk with me in the garden, sir knight,” and taking his arm she guided him toward the south end of the eastern court.

“You care?” he asked.

There can be a world of meaning in two words.

The girl’s eyes dropped for an instant and then flashed up to his and there was a touch of hauteur in them. “I am the daughter of the Prince of Nimmr,” she said. “I care for the humblest of my father’s subjects.”

Presently she stamped her foot.

“Thou hast an impudent smile, sirrah!”

she exclaimed angrily. “Meliketh it not. Then thou art too forward with the daughter of a prince.”

“And I replied. Why then didst thou smile?”

“Because your eyes had answered me before your lips had spoken and I knew that your eyes had told the truth.”

Again she stamped her foot angrily. “Thou art indeed a forward boor,” she exclaimed. “I shall not remain to be insulted further.”

“Thou art a knight of Nimmr and know not that?” exclaimed Richard.

“What I know about knighting would rattle around in a peanut shell,” admitted Blake.

“Thou shouldst know and I shalt tell thee. Hark thee well, then,” said Richard, “for I must need go back to the very beginning.”

“He lies asleep in yon beyt and—thou hast a sharp khusa.”

“I have never killed a man,” whimpered Stimbol.

“Nor hast thou ever been killed,” reminded the sheik; “but tonight thou must kill or tomorrow thou wilt be killed.”

“Thy buckler!” screamed Sir Richard.

“The damned thing was in my way,” shouted Blake as he spurred forward to meet the doughty Malud, Richard trailing behind him, as did Malud’s second behind that knight.

There was a confident smile upon the lips of Sir Malud and he glanced often at the knights and ladies in the grandstand, but Blake rode with his eyes always upon his antagonist.

Again Prince Gobred arose. “Hal!” he cried, “to that worthy sir knight who hath most nobly and chivalrously acquitted himself in the lists this day! Hal to Sir James, Knight Templar and, now, Knight of Nimmr!”

Not even the name of Richard I of England had aroused the enthusiasm that followed the drinking to Sir James.

The length of the long hall Blake’s eyes travelled straight to where Guinalda stood.

“Be there other orders of knighthood these days?” demanded Gobred.

“We’re all knights these days,” explained Blake.

“All knights! Be there no serfs nor yeomen? ’Tis incredible!”

“Thou art, of a certainty, a strange sir knight,” said Wildred. “I recall now that thou didst offer succor to Sir Guy when thou hadst fairly vanquished him.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” asked Blake. “I haven’t anything against you. We’ve had a bully good scrap and are out of it. Why should we sit here and make faces at one another?”

Sir Wildred shook his head. “Thou are beyond my comprehension,” he admitted.

Blake drew his gun and peered into the wood, but he saw nothing nor could his atrophied sense of smell catch the scent that had come so clearly to the nostrils of Sir Galahad.

Eyes that he could not see were watching him, but they were not the eyes of Sheeta the leopard.

This was a new experience for the ape-man, a new adventure, a new thrill.

He knew as much about jousting as he did about ping-pong, but from childhood he had wielded a spear, and so he smiled as the knight charged upon him.

Lord Tarzan waited, and the Knight of the Sepulcher was disconcerted to see his adversary awaiting him, motionless, his spear not even couched to receive him.

… great desire to escape from the valley with their booty before they should be discovered and set upon by the great host of fighting men they were now convinced were quartered in the castle and city they had been fortunate enough to find almost deserted.

Avarice gave them strength and endurance far beyond that which they normally displayed

, with the result that dawn found them at the foot of the ragged mountains that Ibn Jad had determined to scale rather than attempt an assault upon the castle which guarded the easy way from the valley.

They waited, listening, but there was no sound other than the droning of insects and the occasional raucous cry of a bird; but when they moved on again, leaving their fellow dead upon the trail, a hollow voice called to them from a distance.

“For every jewel a drop of blood!” it wailed dismally, for its author knew well the intensely superstitious nature of the desert dwellers and how best to affright them.

It was a shaken column that continued on its way, nor was there any mention of making camp until almost sunset, so anxious were they all to leave behind this gloomy wood and the horrid afreet that inhabited it;

… man, accustomed to freedom, light, activity, already felt the hideousness of his position and wondered how long it would be before he, too, jibbered incoherently at the end of a rusting chain, how long before he, too, was but mildewed bones upon a clammy floor.

In utter darkness and in utter silence there is no time, for there is no means by which one may compute the passage of time.

How long Blake crouched in the stifling air of his dank dungeon he could not know. He slept once, but whether he had dozed for an instant or slept the clock around he could not even hazard a guess. And of what moment was it?