Fishermen Quotes ( 1 - 10 of 18 )
Oh the brave Fisher's life,
It is the best of any,
'Tis full of pleasure, void of read more
Oh the brave Fisher's life,
It is the best of any,
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis belov'd of many:
Other joys Are but toys;
Only this Lawful is,
For our skill Breeds no ill,
But content and pleasure.
I am, Sir, a brother of the angle.
I am, Sir, a brother of the angle.
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
Meek Walton's heavenly memory.
The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that cast angle into
the brooks shall lament, and they that read more
The fishers also shall mourn, and all they that cast angle into
the brooks shall lament, and they that spread nets upon the
waters shall languish.
And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of
men.
And he saith unto them, Follow me, and I will make you fishers of
men.
Oh, the gallant fisher's life,
It is the best of any
'Tis full of pleasure, void of read more
Oh, the gallant fisher's life,
It is the best of any
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis beloved of many.
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which read more
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which Side Are You On?"
And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers.
The fisherman could perhaps be bought for less than the fish.
[Lat., Potuit fortasse minoria
Piscator quam read more
The fisherman could perhaps be bought for less than the fish.
[Lat., Potuit fortasse minoria
Piscator quam piscis emi.]
Three fishers went sailing away to the west,
Away to the west as the sun went down;
read more
Three fishers went sailing away to the west,
Away to the west as the sun went down;
Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
And the children stood watching them out of the town.
Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of
course I usually read more
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.