That way nothing is accomplished, he thought. His mouth was too dry to speak but he could not reach for the water now. I must get him alongside this time, he thought. I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You're good for ever.
On the next turn, he nearly had him. But again the fish righted himself and swam slowly away.
You are killing me, fish, the old man thought. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you, brother. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who.
Koan: Beauty is a fish that can kill you.
Saint Marty gets seasick in the rain.
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