If you ask the fish whether they'd rather have an oil spill or a season of fishing, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd vote for another blowout.
Creeps and idiots cannot conceal themselves for long on a fishing trip.
Write. Remember, people may keep you (or me) from being a published author but no one can stop you from being a writer. All you have to do is write. And keep writing. While you’re working at a career, while you’re raising children, while you’re trout fishing--keep writing! No one can stop you but you.
Interest and proficiency in almost any one activity-swimming, boating, fishing, skiing, skating-breed interest in many more. Once someone discovers the delight of mastering one skill, however slightly, he is likely to try out not just one more, but a whole ensemble.
Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.
I'd rather go fishing for three years.
. . . . spending more time with my fly firmly attached to the branches of trees and almost none of it attached to the lips of a trout.
Men go shopping just as men go out fishing or hunting, to see how large a fish may be caught with the smallest hook.
Fish stimulates the brain, but fishing stimulates the imagination.
Fishing is a quest for knowledge and wonder as much as a pursuit of fish.
. . . Grandpa's mind had left us, gone wild and wary. When I walked with him I could feel how strange it was. His thoughts swam between us, hidden under rocks, disappearing in weeds, and I was fishing for them, dangling my own words like baits and lures.
In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.
I am never, never, sick at sea. What never? No never! What never? Hardly ever.
An undisturbed river is as perfect as we will ever know, every refractive slide of cold water a glimpse of eternity.
I stand ready to negotiate, but I want no part of laws: I acknowledge none; I protest against every order with which some authority may feel pleased on the basis of some alleged necessity to over-rule my free will. Laws: We know what they are, and what they are worth! They are spider webs for the rich and mighty, steel chains for the poor and weak, fishing nets in the hands of government.
Fish sticks and beef stew that millions of children love to hate.
Game fish are too valuable to be caught only once.
Just imagine the banner headlines if a marine biologist were to discover a species of dolphin that wove large, intricately meshed fishing nets, twenty dolphin-lengths in diameter! Yet we take a spider web for granted, as a nuisance in the house rather than as one of the wonders of the world. And think of the furore if Jane Goodall returned from Gombe stream with photographs of wild chimpanzees building their own houses, well roofed and insulated, of painstakingly selected stones neatly bonded and mortared! Yet caddis larvae, who do precisely that, command only passing interest.
Songwriting is like fishing in a stream; you put in your line and hope to catch something. And I don't think anyone downstream from Bob Dylan ever caught anything.
Only those become weary of angling who bring nothing to it but the idea of catching fish.