Ed Weeks Quotes

When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. Now, happy fisherman; now twitch the line! How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!

Fishing is such great fun, I have often felt, that it really ought to be done in bed

Or whipping its rough surface for a trout.

My best fishing-memory is about some fish that I never caught.

There is a lot of amiable fantasy written about trout fishing, but the truth is that few men know much if anything about the habits of trout and little more about the manner of taking them.

Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, 'Ah, ha! are caught!'

It's certain there are trout somewhere - And maybe I shall take a trout - but I do not seem to care.

There's no taking trout with dry breeches.

When I was a child, my father used to take me for walks, often along a river or by the sea. We would pass people fishing, perhaps reeling in their lines with struggling fish hooked at the end of them. Once I saw a man take a small fish out of a bucket and impale it, still wriggling, on an empty hook to use as bait.

I also like flyfishing - maybe I would have figured a way to make a living out of that?

I have been known to catch sixty trout in one day.

I grew up in Florida, started fishing with my dad going down to the Everglades and around the state, plus some offshore stuff for sails and wahoo - but I never really got the bug until my husband and I went float fishing on the Snake River at Jackson Hole for trout - I've been pretty much addicted ever since.

Trout fishing. One must be a stickler for proper form. Use nothing but #4 blasting caps, or a hand grenade, if handy, or at a pool well-lined with stone, one blast from a .44 magnum will bring a few stunned brookies quietly to the surface.

Often I have been exhausted on trout streams, uncomfortable, wet, cold, briar scarred, sunburned, mosquito bitten, but never, with a fly rod in my hand have I been less than in a place that was less than beautiful.

I am, Sir, a brother of the angle.

The great put the little on the hooke.

Yet compared with the serious things of life, fishing is after all rather trivial. The thoughtful angler must frankly confess this.

The curious thing about fishing is you never want to go home. If you catch something, you can't stop. If you don't catch anything, you hate to leave in case something might bite.

It is utterly soothing to fly fish for trout. All other considerations or worries drift away and you couldn't keep them close if you wanted. Perhaps it's standing thigh deep in a river with the water passing at the exact but varying speed of life. You easily recognize this mortality and it dissipates into the landscape.

Fishing is more than fish; it is the vitalizing lure to outdoor life.

I would say the best moment of all was when I caught a 7.5 pound perch in my lake.

The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.

The time must come to all of us, who live long, when memory is more than prospect. An angler who has reached this stage and reviews the pleasure of life will be grateful and glad that he has been an angler, for he will look back on days radiant with happiness, peaks of enjoyment that are no less bright because they are lit in memory by the light of a setting sun.

It is well known that no person who regards his reputation will ever kill a trout with anything but a fly. It requires some training on the part of the trout to take to this method.