I am haunted by waters.

A river, though, has so many things to say that it is hard to know what it says to each of us.

He told us about Christ's disciples being fisherman, and we were left to assume...that all great fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fisherman and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.

Slowly we became silent, and silence itself if an enemy to friendship.

We sat on the bank and the river went by. As always, it was making sounds to itself, and now it made sounds to us. It would be hard to find three men sitting side by side who knew better what a river was saying.

At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.

If our father had had his way, nobody who did not know how to fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him.