I can write best in the silence and solitude of the night, when everyone has retired.

No one connected intimately with a writer has any appreciation of his temperament, except to think him overdoing everything.

I need this wild life, this freedom.

There was never an angler who lived but that there was a fish capable of taking the conceit out of him.

The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.

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.

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