The Nearest Anyone Can Come To Finding

When Exhausted And Feeling Sorry For Yourself, At Least Change Your Socks.

At Sunrise Everything Is Luminous But Not Clear.

The Nearest Anyone Can Come To Finding Himself At Any Given Age Is To Find A Story That Somehow Tells Him About Himself.

In Our Family, There Was No Clear Line Between Religion And Fly Fishing. We Lived At The Junction Of Great Trout Rivers In Western Montana, And Our Father Was A Presbyterian Minister And A Fly Fisherman Who Tied His Own Flies And Taught Others. He Told Us About Christ's Disciples Being Fishermen, And We Were Left To Assume, As My Brother And I Did, That All First-class Fishermen On The Sea Of Galilee Were Fly Fishermen And That John, The Favorite, Was A Dry-fly Fisherman.

I Sat There And Forgot And Forgot, Until What Remained Was The River That Went By And I Who Watched. On The River The Heat Mirages Danced With Each Other And Then They Danced Through Each Other And Then They Joined Hands And Danced Around Each Other. Eventually The Water Joined The River, And There Was Only One Of Us. I Believe It Was The River.