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.

Never a fishermen need there be
If fishes could hear as well as see.

Never a fishermen need there be
If fishes could hear as well as see.

No man is born an Artist nor an Angler.

No man is born an Artist nor an Angler.

I am, Sir, a brother of the angle.

I am, Sir, a brother of the angle.

Death is like a fisherman, who, having caught a fish in his net,
leaves it in the water for read more

Death is like a fisherman, who, having caught a fish in his net,
leaves it in the water for a time; the fish continues to swim
about, but all the while the net is round it, and the fishermen
will snatch it out in his own good time.

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.

He who holds the hook is aware in what waters many fish are
swimming.
[Lat., Qui sustinet hamos,
read more

He who holds the hook is aware in what waters many fish are
swimming.
[Lat., Qui sustinet hamos,
Novit, quae multo pisce natentur aquae.]

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.