There was never an angler who lived but that there was a fish capable of taking the conceit out of him.
Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
I arise full of eagerness and energy, knowing well what achievement lies ahead of me.
Fishermen, no matter what supreme good fortune befalls them, cannot ever be absolutely satisfied. It is a fundamental weakness of intellect.
The Indian story has never been written. Maybe I am the man to do it.
Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.