Quotes about fish

A collection of quotes on the topic of fish.

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Mark Nepo photo
Gregory of Nyssa photo
Zayn Malik photo

„[his answer to 'do you have a twin sister?] He’s quite influential, that Rodger. He’s done a couple of songs on the new album. He’s off fishing today.“

—  Zayn Malik British singer 1993
As 'guy who has a twin sister' on 2017-03-20, https://www.vanityfair.com/style/2017/03/zayn-malik-interview-the-times-quotes

Desmond Tutu photo
Yukteswar Giri photo
Charles Lamb photo
D.H. Lawrence photo
Ted Bundy photo

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William Saroyan photo

„Then swiftly, neatly, with the grace of the young man on the trapeze, he was gone from his body.
For an eternal moment he was still all things at once: the bird, the fish, the rodent, the reptile, and man.“

—  William Saroyan American writer 1908 - 1981
The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze (1934), Context: Then swiftly, neatly, with the grace of the young man on the trapeze, he was gone from his body. For an eternal moment he was still all things at once: the bird, the fish, the rodent, the reptile, and man. An ocean of print undulated endlessly and darkly before him. The city burned. The herded crowd rioted. The earth circled away, and knowing that he did so, he turned his lost face to the empty sky and became dreamless, unalive, perfect. "The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze"

David Lynch photo

„Ideas are like fish.
If you want to catch little fish, you can stay in the shallow water. But if you want to catch the big fish, you've got to go deeper.“

—  David Lynch, Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity
Catching the Big Fish (2006), Context: Ideas are like fish. If you want to catch little fish, you can stay in the shallow water. But if you want to catch the big fish, you've got to go deeper. Down deep, the fish are more powerful and more pure. They're huge and abstract. And they're very beautiful. Introduction, p. 1

David Foster Wallace photo
Kurt Cobain photo

„It's OK to eat fish
'Cos they don't have any feelings“

—  Kurt Cobain American musician and artist 1967 - 1994
Song lyrics, Nevermind (1991), Something In The Way

Julio Cortázar photo
Gerrard Winstanley photo
Tanith Lee photo
Francesco Petrarca photo

„The waters speak of love and the breeze and the branches and the little birds and the fish and the flowers and the grass, all together begging me always to love. But you, born in a happy hour, who call me from Heaven: by the memory of your untimely death you beg me to scorn the world and its sweet hooks.“

—  Francesco Petrarca, Il Canzoniere
Il Canzoniere (c. 1351–1353), To Laura in Death, L'acque parlan d'amore, et l'òra e i rami et gli augelletti et i pesci e i fiori et l'erba, tutti inseme pregando ch'i' sempre ami.<p>Ma tu, ben nata, che dal ciel mi chiami, per la memoria di tua morte acerba preghi ch'i' sprezzi 'l mondo e i suoi dolci hami. Canzone 280, st. 3–4

Arundhati Roy photo

„To the Kathakali Man these stories are his children and his childhood. He has grown up within them. They are the house he was raised in, the meadows he played in. They are his windows and his way of seeing. So when he tells a story, he handles it as he would a child of his own. He teases it. He punishes it. He sends it up like a bubble. He wrestles it to the ground and lets it go again. He laughs at it because he loves it. He can fly you across whole worlds in minutes, he can stop for hours to examine a wilting leaf. Or play with a sleeping monkey's tail. He can turn effortlessly from the carnage of war into the felicity of a woman washing her hair in a mountain stream. From the crafty ebullience of a rakshasa with a new idea into a gossipy Malayali with a scandal to spread. From the sensuousness of a woman with a baby at her breast into the seductive mischief of Krishna's smile. He can reveal the nugget of sorrow that happiness contains. The hidden fish of shame in a sea of glory.
He tells stories of the gods, but his yarn is spun from the ungodly, human heart.
The Kathakali Man is the most beautiful of men. Because his body is his soul. His only instrument. From the age of three he has been planed and polished, pared down, harnessed wholly to the task of story-telling. He has magic in him, this man within the painted mark and swirling skirts.
But these days he has become unviable. Unfeasible. Condemned goods. His children deride him. They long to be everything that he is not. He has watched them grow up to become clerks and bus conductors. Class IV non-gazetted officers. With unions of their own.
But he himself, left dangling somewhere between heaven and earth, cannot do what they do. He cannot slide down the aisles of buses, counting change and selling tickets. He cannot answer bells that summon him. He cannot stoop behind trays of tea and Marie biscuits.
In despair he turns to tourism. He enters the market. He hawks the only thing he owns. The stories that his body can tell.
He becomes a Regional Flavour.“

—  Arundhati Roy, book The God of Small Things
The God of Small Things (1997), page 230-231.

Karl Marx photo

„Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum.“

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