One great thing about fly fishing is that after a while nothing exists of the world but thoughts about fly fishing

At the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books.

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.

In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.

It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us.

My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him all good things-trout as well as eternal salvation-come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.

The hardest thing usually to leave behind, as was the case now, can loosely be called the conscience.