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most welcome he had ever heard--the muttering and growling of the sea . breaking on a rocky shore. He was almost on the rocks before he saw . them; on a night less calm he would have been shattered against them. With his remaining strength he dragged himself from the swirling waters.
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The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell " O F F T H E R E t o t h e r i g h t - - s o m e w h e r e - - i s a l a r g e i s l a n d , " s a i d W h i t n e y .
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
“Don’t talk rot, Whitney,” said Rainsford. “You’re a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?” “Perhaps the jaguar does,” observed Whitney. 20 “Bah! They’ve no understanding.” “Even so, I rather think they understand one thing—fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death.”
Richard Edward Connell, Jr. (October 28, 1893 – November 23, 1949) was an American author and journalist, best known for his short story "The Most Dangerous Game." Connell was one of the best-known Amer-ican short story writers of his time and his stories appeared in the Saturday Evening Post and Collier's Weekly.
El juego más peligroso cazadores por Richard Connell [Versión en Español] "Por allí a la derecha--en algún lugar, hay una isla grande," dijo
