I don't suppose I ever entirely release a fish. I may not eat it, but that does not mean I take nothing from it before I let it go.

When we are on the water, our contemplative impulses range from the intense to the nearly absent.

The issue of imitation has always occupied fly fishers, and part of its endless attraction has been the imponderable uncertainty of how much it matters to the fish in the first place.

Fishing is a quest for knowledge and wonder as much as a pursuit of fish.

I don't suppose I ever entirely release a fish. I may not eat it, but that does not mean I take nothing from it before I let it go.

As the old fisherman remarked after explaining the various ways to attach a frog to a hook, it's all the same to the frog.

If you aren't a fisher you'll see many things, but the river, except where it is ridden by waterfowl or waded by moose, will rarely enter your thoughts, much less stimulate your spirit. It's different if you fish. The surface of the water tells a story.