An undisturbed river is as perfect as we will ever know, every refractive slide of cold water a glimpse of eternity.
I object to fishing tournaments less for what they do to fish than what they do to fishermen.
Those waters which leave the main stream either cannot reach the sea and disappear in inland or find a better place, a beautiful lake.
There was a small wooden gazebo built out over the water; Isabelle was sitting in it, staring out across the lake. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, waiting at the top of her tower for someone to ride up and rescue her. Not that traditional princess behavior was like Isabelle at all. Isabelle with her whip and boots and knives would chop anyone who tried to pen her up in a tower into pieces, build a bridge out of the remains, and walk carelessly to freedom, her hair looking fabulous the entire time.
I think reality is thin, you know, thin as lake ice after a thaw, and we fill our lives with noise and light and motion to hide that thinness from ourselves.
It's a very familiar type of place where people either go to their house on the lake or they get together in different places. This was a normal, relatable place that I think a lot of people have in their childhood.
Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.
Go softly by that river side Or when you would depart, You'll find its every winding tied; And knotted round your heart.
One chronicler writes of an area of India during the end of the 20th century: Almost no-one in this slum was poor by Indian benchmarks. . . . True, a few residents trapped rats and frogs and fried them for dinner. A few ate the scrub grass at the sewage lake edge. And these individuals, miserable souls, thereby made an inestimable contribution to their neighbors. They gave those slum dwellers who didn't fry rats and eat weeds a sense of their upward mobility.
Perhaps I should not have been a fisherman, he thought. But that was the thing that I was born for.
There are always new places to go fishing. For any fisherman, there's always a new place, always a new horizon
The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden oars the silver stream And greedily devour the treacherous bait.
I was born on Wellington Avenue and my family that remains lives in the Lake Shore Drive area.
Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale. . . from hell's heart I stab at thee.
Your culture is your limit; if you can't go beyond it, you will remain as a frog of your little lake!
I remember watching Swan Lake and everybody looking exactly the same, but being able to relate because they were the only company I had ever seen even on video that had Asian dancers. The Asian community in Hawaii is actually almost as dominant as the Caucasian community. I thought "I can relate to that company because they look like people that I see every day. " They weren't all little stick-thin Russian ballerinas.
The King beneath the mountains, The King of carven stone, The lord of silver fountains Shall come into his own! His crown shall be upholden, His harp shall be restrung, His halls shall echo golden To songs of yore re-sung. The woods shall wave on mountains. And grass beneath the sun; His wealth shall flow in fountains And the rivers golden run. The streams shall run in gladness, The lakes shall shine and burn, And sorrow fail and sadness At the Mountain-king’s return!
I have a home in Salt Lake, and I have a home in Malibu, at the beach.
Speech is as a pump, by which we raise and pour out the water from the great lake of Thought,--whither it flows back again.
Every city has a town outside with a lake. I pull out my fishing pole and fish. I've been doing that for a long time.