Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“The late American golfing coach and writer, Harvey Penick, held that any who played golf was his friend â€� in the politer sense of Arcades ambo, I gather. â€� I myself hold with Honest Izaak that there is â€� and that I am a member of â€� a communion of, if not saints, at least anglers and very honest men, some now with God and others of us yet upon the quiet waters. â€� The man is a mere brute, and no true angler, whose sport is measured only in fish caught and boasted of. For what purpose do we impose on ourselves limits and conventions if not to make sport of a mere mechanical harvest of protein? The true angler can welcome even a low river and a dry year, and learn of it, and be the better for it, in mind and in spirit. So, No: the hatch is not all that it might be, for if it is warm enough and early with it, it is also in a time of drought; and, No: I don’t get to the river as often as I should wish. But these things do not make this a poor year: they are an unlooked-for opportunity to delve yet deeper into the secrets of the river, and grow wise. â€� Rejoice, then, in all seasons, ye fishers. The world the river is; both you and I, And all mankind, are either fish or fry. We must view it with judicious looks, and get wisdom whilst we may. And to all honest anglers, then, I wish, as our master Izaak wished us long ago, ‘a rainy evening to read this following Discourse; and that if he be an honest Angler, the east wind may never blow when he goes a-fishing.”
― G.M.W. Wemyss