Capo, my first golden retriever, so loved to swim she once jumped off a cliff to get into Lake Superior.
Never, under any circumstance, do I touch soup, as I do not believe in building a meal on a lake.
History is a state of yearning. I yearn for Kay Lake throughout this entire thing. There's an essay I've written where I talked about living in the past. There's a whole motif in the book of then and now. And I lived there.
I bought my wife a new car. She called and said, "There is water in the carburetor. " I said, "Where's the car?" She said, "In the lake. "
The true fisherman approaches the first day of fishing season with all the sense of wonder and awe of a child approaching Christmas.
The skin is no more separated from the brain than the surface of a lake is separate from its depths; the two are different locations in a continuous medium. . . The brain is a single functional unit, from cortex to fingertips to toes. To touch the surface is to stir the depths.
We do have to think seriously about conservation now, although it is chilling to realize there are catch-and-release fishermen alive today who don't know how to clean and fry a fish.
Lake quiets, tired of my lies.
When you're young you think that you're going to sail into a lovely lake of quietude and peace. This is profoundly untrue.
If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.
We must keep these waters for wild rice, these trees for maple syrup, our lakes for fish, and our land and aquifers for all of our relatives - whether they have fins, roots, wings, or paws.
Those waters which leave the main stream either cannot reach the sea and disappear in inland or find a better place, a beautiful lake.
There is no use in your walking five miles to fish when you can depend on being just as unsuccessful near home.
It didn't matter that there were actually two lakes there,. . . It didn't matter that he had only $300 in his pocket. He had the gall, or the zeal, to call it not a school, or a college, but a university.
Let us dig our gardens and not be elsewhere; Let us take long walks in the open air. . . Let us bathe in the rivers and lakes. . . Let us indulge in games. . . Let us be more simple: simple and true in our gestures, in our words, and simple and true in our minds above all. Let us be ourselves.
I’ve always liked the feeling of traveling light; there is something in me that wants to feel I could leave wherever I am, at any time, without any effort. The idea of being weighed down made me uneasy, as if I lived on the surface of a frozen lake and each new trapping of domestic life - a pot, a chair, a lamp - threatened to be the thing that sent me through the ice.
Anglers. . . exaggerate grossly and make gentle and inoffensive creatures sound like wounded buffalo and man-eating tigers.
The great charm of fly-fishing is that we are always learning.
The self is fundamentally an illusion arising as a reflection of the soul in matter, much as a clear lake at midnight reflects the moon.
The lake of fire awaits my lady