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Fishermen, no matter what supreme good fortune befalls them, cannot ever be absolutely satisfied. It is a fundamental weakness of intellect.
Zane Grey
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Zane Grey
Age: 67 †
Born: 1872
Born: January 31
Died: 1939
Died: October 23
Author
Baseball Player
Dentist
Film Producer
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
Zanesville
Ohio
Absolutely
Fundamentals
Befalls
Cannot
Intellect
Fishermen
Ever
Satisfied
Fisherman
Matter
Supreme
Lakes
Good
Rivers
Fishing
Fortune
Fishes
Weakness
Boat
Sea
Fundamental
More quotes by Zane Grey
The difficulty, the ordeal, is to start.
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Every once in a while I feel the tremendous force of the novel. But it does not stay with me.
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Today I began the novel that I determined to be great.
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What makes life worth living? Better surely, to yield to the stain of suicide blood in me and seek forgetfulness in the embrace of cold dark death.
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I need this wild life, this freedom.
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A good rule of angling philosophy is not to interfere with any fishermans ways of being happy, unless you want to be hated.
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I did not have one bad spell during writing - an unprecedented record.
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I hope I have found myself, my work, my happiness - under the light of the western skies.
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Before exulatation had vanished, I felt as if I had been granted a marvellous privilege. Out of the inscrutable waters a beautiful fish had somehow leaped to show me fleetingly the life and spirit of his element.
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Never insult seven men when all your packing is a six-shooter.
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There are always greater fish than you have caught, always the lure of greater task and achievement, always the inspiration to seek, to endure, to find.
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There are hours when I must force the novel out of my mind and be interested in the children.
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Where I was raised a woman's word was law. I ain't quite outgrowed that yet.
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If I fished only to capture fish, my fishing trips would have ended long ago.
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Adam Larey gazed with hard and wondering eyes down the silent current of the red river upon which he meant to drift away into the desert
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I must go deeper and even stronger into my treasure mine and stint nothing of time, toil, or torture.
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I am tired. My arm aches. My head boils. My feet are cold. But I am not aware of any weakness.
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Men may rise on stepping stones of their dead selves to higher things.
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Love grows more tremendously full, swift, poignant, as the years multiply.
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I see so much more than I used to see. The effect has been to depress and sadden and hurt me terribly.
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