Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.
Trout fishing. One must be a stickler for proper form. Use nothing but #4 blasting caps, or a hand grenade, if handy, or at a pool well-lined with stone, one blast from a .44 magnum will bring a few stunned brookies quietly to the surface.
The solution to any problem -work, love, money, whatever -is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be.
They say you forget your troubles on a trout stream, but that's not quite it. What happens is that you begin to see where your troubles fit into the grand scheme of things, and suddenly they're just not such a big deal anymore.
Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.
There is certainly something in angling that tends to produce a serenity of the mind.
A trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who seek it.
If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.
The great charm of fly-fishing is that we are always learning.
The charm of fishing is that it is the pursuit of what is elusive but attainable, a perpetual series of occasions for hope.
To go fishing is the chance to wash one's soul with pure air, with the rush of the brook, or with the shimmer of sun on blue water. It brings meekness and inspiration from the decency of nature, charity toward tackle-makers, patience toward fish, a mockery of profits and egos, a quieting of hate, a rejoicing that you do not have to decide a darned thing until next week. And it is discipline in the equality of men - for all men are equal before fish.
I think I fish, in part, because it's an anti-social, bohemian business that, when gone about properly, puts you forever outside the mainstream culture without actually landing you in an institution.
It is impossible to grow weary of a sport that is never the same on any two days of the year.
I go fishing not to find myself but to lose myself.
The finest gift you can give to any fisherman is to put a good fish back, and who knows if the fish that you caught isn't someone else's gift to you?
All men are equal before fish.
Fishing is a... discipline in the equality of men - for all men are equal before fish.
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.
You know when they have a fishing show on TV? They catch the fish and then let it go. They don't want to eat the fish, they just want to make it late for something.
Angling may be said to be so like the mathematics that it can never be fully learned.
What are more delightful than one's emotions when approaching a trout stream for the initial cast?
You must lose a fly to catch a trout.
Game fish are too valuable to be caught only once.
I fish because I love to . . . because I love the environs where trout are found . . . because I suspect that men are going along this way for the last time, and I for one don’t want to waste the trip . . . and, finally, not because I regard fishing as being so terribly important but because I suspect that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant––and not nearly so much fun.
Creeps and idiots cannot conceal themselves for long on a fishing trip.
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