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I will see this game of life out to its bitter end.
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This motion-picture muddle had distracted me from my writing.
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I am full of fire and passion. I am not ready yet for great concentration and passion.
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Today I began the novel that I determined to be great.
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I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.
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'If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.'
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Writing was like digging coal. I sweat blood. The spell is on me.
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It was the elision of the weaker element - the survival of the fittest; and some, indeed very many, mothers must lose their sons that way.
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We'll use a signal I have tried and found far-reaching and easy to yell. Waa-hoo!
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There was never an angler who lived but that there was a fish capable of taking the conceit out of him.
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Adam Larey gazed with hard and wondering eyes down the silent current of the red river upon which he meant to drift away into the desert
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Far away Tongariro! Green - white thundering Athabasca river of New Zealand! I vowed I would come again down across the Pacific to fish in the swift cold waters of this most beautiful and famous of trout streams. It is something to have striven. It is much to have kept your word.
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Fishermen, no matter what supreme good fortune befalls them, cannot ever be absolutely satisfied. It is a fundamental weakness of intellect.
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Before exulatation had vanished, I felt as if I had been granted a marvellous privilege. Out of the inscrutable waters a beautiful fish had somehow leaped to show me fleetingly the life and spirit of his element.