Best 544 quotes in «fishing quotes» category

People fish because they are searching for something. Often it is not for a fish.

She had golden blazing sun kissed hair, which hung down in loose, lazy spirals, a heart shaped pouted mouth, which was pink tinged with violet blushing, wide, spangled blue eyes that glimmered sparks to flicker and ember in the vivid intelligence of the moon’s love, and a yielding body, that seem to tangle in loose rhythm as I walked near to her.

Smile, tip your traditional hat, and enjoy your time by the water.

There are a million-and-one ways to enjoy a day’s angling. Catching fish is but one of them.

There are some pools that woo us, as if in courtship. Others challenge, as if yearning a feisty relationship.

there are no houses to wife. only window seats to occupy when the weather needs changing & waters to flow past our ankles on Sundays as we fish.

The act of fishing – for fish, dreams or whatever magic is available – is enough.

THERE'S A KIND OF PEACEFULNESS IN THE NAMES OF ENGLISH COARSE FISH. ROACH, RUDD, DACE, BLEAK, BARBEL, BREAM, GUDGEON, PIKE, CHUB, CARP, TENCH. THEY'RE SOLID KIND OF NAMES. THE PEOPLE WHO MADE THEM UP HADN'T HEARD OF MACHINE-GUNS, THEY DIDN'T LIVE IN TERROR OF THE SACK OR SPENDING THEIR TIME EATING ASPIRINS, GOING TO THE PICTURES, AND WONDERING HOW TO KEEP OUT OF THE CONCENTRATION CAMP.

The river reflected whatever it chose of sky and bridge and burning tree, and when the undergraduate had oared his boat through the reflections they closed again, completely, as if they had never been. There one might have sat the clock round lost in thought. Thought --to call it by a prouder name than it deserved-- had let its line down into the stream. It swayed, minute after minute, hither and thither among the reflections and the weeds, letting the water lift it and sink it until --you know the little tug -- the sudden conglomeration of an idea at the end of one's line: and then the cautious hauling of it in, and the careful laying of it out? Alas, laid on the grass how small, how insignificant this thought of mine looked; the sort of fish that a good fisherman puts back into the water so that it may grow fatter and be one day worth cooking and eating.

There’s always an opportunity to fish for something – even if it’s just for laughs or ideas.

There is a wonderful simple human reality to Christ's hunger. The man is famished. He's missed meals for three days, He has a lot on his mind, He's on His way back to heaven, but before He goes He is itching for a nice piece of broiled fish and a little bread on the side with the men and women He loves. Do we not like Him the more for His prandial persistance? And think for a moment about the holiness of our own food, and the ways that cooking and sharing a meal can be forms of love and prayer. And realize again that the Eucharist at the heart of stubborn Catholicism is the breakfast that Christ prepares for Catholics, every morning, as we return from fishing in vast dreamy seas?

The sky a net, its mesh clogged with glowing stars.

The wild carp is an icon that forges a living connection between the past and the present.

The world of water has a way of perpetuating myths and shrouding lakes in mystery.

The water is a dark flower and a fisherman is a bee in the heart of her.

Traditional angling is a mindset. So,have you set your mind?

Traditional angling is to escape the noise and one-upmanship of modern angling in favour of something simple and beautiful.

We caught him," I said. "Thats the fun part." For us, at least. I doubt the fish would agree.

The truth hurts sometimes. If we are going to be taught by God, the fisherman, we first need to be captured by Him. And His hook is going to have a bite. Of course, it's going to hurt. The truth hurts when we are sinners and when we acknowledge we are not surrendering to the truth.

This is the story of a boy named Pete Coutinho, who had a spell put on him. Some people might have called it a curse. I don't know. It depends on a lot of things, on whether you've got gipsy blood, like old Beatriz Sousa, who learned a lot about magic from the wild gitana tribe in the mountains beyond Lisbon, and whether you're satisfied with a fisherman's life in Cabrillo. Not that a fisherman's life is a bad one, far from it. By day you go out in the boats that rock smoothly across the blue Gulf waters, and at night you can listen to music and drink wine at the Shore Haven or the Castle or any of the other taverns on Front Street. What more do you want? What more is there? And what does any sensible man, or any sensible boy, want with that sorcerous sort of glamor that can make everything incredibly bright and shining, deepening colors till they hurt, while wild music swings down from stars that have turned strange and alive? Pete shouldn't have wanted that, I suppose, but he did, and probably that's why there happened to him - what did happen. And the trouble began long before the actual magic started working. ("Before I Wake...")

When left alone with nothing but one’s emotions and inner thoughts for company, the nocturnal world can be completely overpowering.

With a fly rod, anglers are not casting to a fish; rather to a circle of dreams: ripples that spread into every aspect of their lives.

When reeling a fish in to not simply feel “the power of wildness intimately but the same time recognize the right of that wildness to continue”.

About the only certainty, other than uncertainty, in fly fishing is that a fly won't catch fish if it stays in its box.

A collection of short stories is generally thought to be a horrendous clinker; an enforced courtesy for the elderly writer who wants to display the trophies of his youth, along with his trout flies.

A fishing rod is a stick with a hook at one end and a fool at the other.

A fisherman is always hopeful -- nearly always more hopeful than he has any right to be.

After all, catching something is purely a by-product of our fishing. It is the act of fishing that wipes away all grief, lightens all worry, dissolves fear and anxiety.

We were not a crew; we were only here at the same time.

You’ve heard the saying, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." Well, just change that to "F**k a man and you’ve made him happy for a day. Teach a man to f**k and you’ve made him happy for a lifetime.

Accurately recalling an entire day of fishing is like trying to push smoke back down a chimney, so you settle on these specific moments.

Advice to anglers: don't take advice from people with missing fingers.

After all these years, I still feel like a boy when I'm on a stream

Aging is for people who don't know any better.

After the doctor's departure Koznyshev felt inclined to go to the river with his fishing rod. He was fond of angling, and seemed proud of being able to like such a stupid occupation.

All good things come by grace, and grace comes by art, and art does not come easy.

All I can say to the kids is if you've a problem in fishing or life, if you talk to an older person, you're gonna end up alright, because nine times out of 10, they've been through the same thing.

All you need to be a fisherman is patience and a worm.

All those authors there, most of whom of course I've never met. That's the poetry side, that's the prose side, that's the fishing and miscellaneous behind me. You get an affection for books that you've enjoyed.

All consumption should be local. No food products need to be transported over hundreds of miles to market. All commercial fishing should be abolished. If local communities need to fish the fish should be caught individually by hand. We need to stop flying, stop driving cars, and jetting around on marine recreational vehicles.

Although the United States has made tremendous progress cleaning up its water by removing billions of pounds of pollutants and doubling the number of waterways safe for fishing and swimming, a majority of Americans live within 10 miles of a polluted lake, river, stream or coastal area.

Along with being forever on the move, one is forever in a hurry, leaving things inadvertently behind-friend or fishing tackle, old raincoat or old allegiance.

A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm

And connected I had been. When the fish changed directions, I felt it. when it slowed or sped up, I felt that too. It's such a raw thing, this shared existence with a piece of bucking biomass.

And for winter fly-fishing it is as useful as an almanac out of date.

And angling too, that solitary vice, What Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

An excellent angler, and now with God.

Along a stream that raced and ran Through tangled trees and over stones, That long had heard the pipes o' Pan And shared the joys that nature owns, I met a fellow fisherman, Who greeted me in cheerful tones. . . . . Foes think the bad in him they've guessed And prate about the wrong they scan; Friends that have seen him at his best Believe they know his every plan; I know him better than the rest, I know him as a fisherman.

And one thing I can be proud of is we have a 'Come and Try Fishing' day every year. And there's 20 venues throughout the state, and see, these thousands of kids who've never been fishing come along.

Anglers may be divided into almost as many genera and species as the fish they catch, and engage in the sport from as many impulses.