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Norman Maclean Biography

Norman Fitzroy Maclean (December 23, 1902 – August 2, 1990) was an American author and scholar noted for his books A River Runs Through It and Other Stories (1976) and Young Men and Fire (1992).

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Norman Maclean Quotes

I knew that, when needed, mountains would move for me.

Mountain, Mountains, Move, Moving, Needed

As for my father, I never knew whether he believed God was a mathematician but he certainly believed God could count and that only by picking up God's rhythms were we able to regain power and beauty. Unlike many Presbyterians, he often used the word "beautiful.

Able, Beautiful, Father, Mathematician, Picking, Rhythms

Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willingly and needs it badly.

Badly, Giving, Helping, Needs, Willingly

At the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books.

Book, Life, Like, Rivers, Stories, Time

One great thing about fly fishing is that after a while nothing exists of the world but thoughts about fly fishing

Fishing, Fly Fishing, Thing, Thoughts, World

He told us about Christ's disciples being fisherman, and we were left to assume. . . that all great fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fisherman and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.

Sea, Fishing, Dry, Told, Galilee, Fly

We sat on the bank and the river went by. As always, it was making sounds to itself, and now it made sounds to us. It would be hard to find three men sitting side by side who knew better what a river was saying.

Making, Men, River, Rivers, Side, Sound

Slowly we became silent, and silence itself if an enemy to friendship.

Became, Enemy, Friendship, Silence, Silent

When I was young, a teacher had forbidden me to say "more perfect" because she said if a thing is perfect it can't be more so. But by now I had seen enough of life to have regained my confidence in it.

Enough, Forbidden, Perfect, Teacher, Young

Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.

Elude, God, Inspirational, Love, Question, Today

Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brother's keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possible one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go.

Brother, Haunting, Help, Loneliness, Probably, Referred

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

Cut, Rain, Running, Time, Waters

A mystery of the universe is how it has managed to survive with so much volunteer help.

Helping, Managed, Mystery, Universe, Volunteer

As I get considerably beyond the biblical allotment of three score years and ten, I feel with increasing intensity that I can express my gratitude for still being around on the oxygen-side of the earth's crust only by not standing pat on what I have hitherto known and loved. While oxygen lasts, there are still new things to love, especially if compassion is a form of love.

Allotment, Biblical, Compassion, Gratitude, Hitherto, Oxygen

The nearest anyone can come to finding himself at any given age is to find a story that somehow tells him about himself.

Age, Finding, Given, Stories, Story

The hardest thing usually to leave behind, as was the case now, can loosely be called the conscience.

Behinds, Cases, Hardest, Loosely, Usually

In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.

Brother, Father, Fishermen, John, Junction, Sea

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.

Eventually, Fishing, River, Rivers, Running, Runs

I had as yet no notion that life every now and then becomes literature—not for long, of course, but long enough to be what we best remember, and often enough so that what we eventually come to mean by life are those moments when life, instead of going sideways, backwards, forward, or nowhere at all, lines out straight, tense and inevitable, with a complication, climax, and, given some luck, a purgation, as if life had been made and not happened.

Forward, Happened, Long, Luck, Mean, Sideways

If our father had had his way, nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him.

Father, Lakes, Sea, Know, Fish

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Norman Maclean Biography

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