More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and of the lions on the beach.
It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.
You did not kill the fish only to keep alive and to sell for food, he thought. You killed him for pride and because you are a fisherman. You loved him when he was alive and you loved him after. If you love him, it is not a sin to kill him. Or is it more?
Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her?
