God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation than angling.
We see but the outside of a rich man's happiness; few consider him to be like the silkworm, that, when she seems to play, is at the very same time consuming herself.
Old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good.
As no man is born an artist, so no man is born an angler.
God has two dwellings; one in heaven, and the other in a meek and thankful heart.
If all the theories were correct, there wouldn't be a fish left in all of our lakes and rivers and streams.