All Good Things Come By Grace, And

Help Is Giving Part Of Yourself To Somebody Who Comes To Accept It Willingly And Needs It Badly.

A River, Though, Has So Many Things To Say That It Is Hard To Know What It Says To Each Of Us.

All Good Things Come By Grace, And Grace Comes By Art, And Art Does Not Come Easy.

Poets Talk About "spots Of Time", But It Is Really The Fishermen Who Experience Eternity Compressed Into A Moment. No One Can Tell What A Spot Of Time Is Until Suddenly The Whole World Is A Fish And The Fish Is Gone.

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.