Browsing Topic Best Fishes Quotes

Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.

Good things come to those who hustle.

Bragging is not an attractive trait, but let’s be honest. A man who catches a big fish doesn’t go home through an alley.

As the fish doesn’t know water, people are ignorant of space. Consciousness is concerned only with changing and varying details; it ignores constants-especially constant backgrounds. Thus only very exceptional people are aware of what is basic to everything.

I like to sit on the front porch of an old cabin I built in the woods and just listen to the birds; I like to fish in the pond and I always throw the fish back.

I laugh when I hear the fish in the water is thirsty.

Something that had been a single cell, a cluster of cells, a little sac of tissue, a kind of worm, a potential fish with gills, stirred in her womb and would one day become a man–a grown man, suffering and enjoying, loving and hating, thinking, remembering, imagining. And what had been a blob of jelly within her body would invent a god and worship; what had been a kind of fish would create, and, having created, would become the battleground of disputing good and evil; what had blindly lived in her as a parasitic worm would look at the stars, would listen to music, would read poetry.

In order to see a fish you must watch the water

In shape they were like horrible toads, and moved in a succession of springs, but in size they were of an incredible bulk, larger than the largest elephant. We had never before seen them save at night, and indeed they are nocturnal animals save when disturbed in their lairs, as these had been. We now stood amazed at the sight, for their blotched and warty skins were of a curious fish-like iridescence, and the sunlight struck them with an ever-varying rainbow bloom as they moved.

Caves so often symbolize rebirth. It’s a hidden space, an expected, inscrutable space. Strange things live in there – eyeless salamanders, albino fish, a prophet’s epiphanies.

If you meet a cross-eyed personyou must plunge into the grass,alongside the chilly ants,fish through the green fingernailsand come up with the four-leaf clover.

I know how the birds fly, how the fishes swim, how animals run. But there is the Dragon. I cannot tell how it mounts on the winds through the clouds and flies through heaven. Today I have seen the Dragon.

Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime. Teach a man to cycle and he will realize fishing is stupid and boring.

Remember that a very good sardine is always preferable to a not that good lobster.

A change fell upon all things. Strange brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burst out upon the trees where no flowers had been before. The tints of the green carpet deepened; and when, one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there sprang up, in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. And life arose in our paths; for the tall flamingo hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds, flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The golden and silver fish haunted the river.

I love to think that animals and humans and plants and fishes and trees and stars and the moon are all connected.

But no matter how many fish in the sea, itd be so empty without me.

We need to do what I call visionary organizing. Recognize that in every crisis, people do not respond like a school of fish. Some people become immobilized. Some people become very angry, some commit suicide, and other people begin to find solutions. And visionary organizers look at those people, recognize them and encourage them, and they become leaders of the future.

Really, people are not a school of fish. Finding the leaders of the future is a question of recognizing those people who give leadership in a crisis.

The fish is my friend too…I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars. Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky; he thought

If you’re shipwrecked on an island with 10 million dollars and your wife has gold and diamonds, but there’s no water, no arable land, no fish, you have nothing. Money is a ‘nothing’ thing.

The fish in the water that is thirsty needs serious professional counseling

Fish got to swim, birds got to fly.

Let a man get up and say, Behold, this is the truth, and instantly I perceive a sandy cat filching a piece of fish in the background. Look, you have forgotten the cat, I say.

Odd’s fish, m’dear! The man can’t even tie his own cravat!

I do fish. I think there is a connection between thinking and fishing mostly because you spend a lot of time up to your waist in water without a whole lot to keep your mind busy.

No one to hate except the slim fish of memorythat slides in and out of my brain.

Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,Eat a whole fish except for the tail.Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale,And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.

There goes a saying, and ’twas shrewdly said, ”Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.

I read the ‘Times’ and ‘Post,’ but I have nothing against the ‘Daily News.’ I also fish around the Internet for entertainment news but find most of what I read to be untrue or partially true.

A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories. They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal.

We went to a church that had missionaries who’d come back once a year from Fiji & give talks. I remember one of them saying it was very hard work telling people they were going to lose their everlasting souls if they didn’t shape up. I pictured people sitting on the beach listening to this sweaty man all dressed in black telling them they were going to burn in hell & them thinking this was good fun, these scary stories this guy was telling them & afterwards, they’d all go home & eat mango & fish & they’d play Monopoly & laugh & laugh & they’d go to bed & wake up the next day & do it all again.

It rose slowly like a gull sensing a reckless blue fish to close to the surface, and then it dived relentlessly for the green, kicked and stopped three feet short of the flag.

Nothing worse than a piece of dried out fish.

Do we really want to travel in hermetically sealed popemobiles through the rural provinces of France, Mexico and the Far East, eating only in Hard Rock Cafes and McDonalds? Or do we want to eat without fear, tearing into the local stew, the humble taqueria’s mystery meat, the sincerely offered gift of a lightly grilled fish head? I know what I want. I want it all. I want to try everything once.