Quotes
Quotes about Fish
It is a silly fish that is caught twice with the same bait.
Still he fishes that catches one.
When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. Now, happy fisherman; now twitch the line! How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
They may the better fish in the water when it is troubled.
I still don't know why I fish or why other men fish, except we like it and it makes us think and feel.
Best fishing in troubled waters.
To fish in troubled waters.
At early dawn when the air is crisp And you're standing knee deep in a beautiful rip You see a trout rise to an unknown fly Then your heart starts to thump and you wonder why You're a neophyte fly fisherman. You can measure the cast and study the lie Then lengthen the line to make your first try As you check the rod to get a good presentation You hold your breath in solemn anticipation You must be a fly fisherman! The fly floats gently on its way to the trout You know it will "take it" without a doubt. You're all charged up and ready to strike But the fly floats by because something's not right You are still a fly fisherman. You open your fly box and select a new fly Then lengthen the tippet before the next try Change your position to help with the cast And hope you have made the right decision at last Now you are a doubtful fly fisherman.
You wait a moment to settle your nerves Then make your cast with a right hand curve The fly settles down and the float looked good But the trout refused it and there you stood A dejected fly fisherman. You looked things over and were not yet beat Then changed flies again and were ready to repeat The next try was poor because you rushed the cast You hold your breath in solemn anticipation You must be a fly fisherman! The fly floats gently on its way to the trout You know it will "take it" without a doubt. You're all charged up and ready to strike But the fly floats by because something's not right You are still a fly fisherman. You open your fly box and select a new fly Then lengthen the tippet before the next try Change your position to help with the cast And hope you have made the right decision at last Now you are a doubtful fly fisherman.
Fly fishing is a very pleasant amusement; but angling or float fishing, I can only compare to a stick and a string, with a worm at one end and a fool at the other.
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 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.
Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.
And for winter fly-fishing it is as useful as an almanac out of date.
To do a perfectly unselfish act for selfish motives.
I am convinced that the majority of people would be generous from selfish motives, if they had the opportunity.
. . . glory built On selfish principles is shame and guilt.
Glory built on selfish principles, is shame and guilt.
You can't hit a home run unless you step up to the plate. You can't catch a fish unless you put your line in the water. You can't reach your goals if you don't try.
What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish?
Commerce has set the mark of selfishness, The signet of its all-enslaving power Upon a shining ore, and called it gold; Before whose image bow the vulgar great, The vainly rich, the miserable proud, The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings, And with blind feelings reverence the power That grinds them to the dust of misery. But in the temple of their hireling hearts Gold is a living god, and rules in scorn All earthly things but virtue.
Fish and visitors stink after three days.
She rears her young on yonder tree; She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em; Like us, for fish she sails to sea, And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em. Yo, ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep, Ply every oar, and cheerly with her, While slow the bending net we sweep, God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher.
Mad Cows and Mad Pigs and Mad Fish say it is not 'you are what you eat' but that we become whom we eat.
Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; But is there anything Beyond?
A fishmonger's wife may feed of a conger; but a serving-man's wife may starve for hunger.
