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Daniel J. Rice
“Eli returned to the river and paused for a moment midstream. His feet were balanced upon uneven stones. The current tumbled around him. The canyon walls were steep and jagged and solid. The colors beneath the surface stirred and glittered. He wanted to hold his face under water and breathe in their beauty. He dipped his fingers into the snow-cold transient texture and felt a tingle. He closed his eyes to see this sensation clearly. He breathed. He put his river-wet hand up to his face and felt the freshness permeate his skin. Water droplets dripped from his face and returned to the river. He opened his eyes as if they were separate from his body, separate from the tension of life, distant from any distraction. He breathed.”
Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

Daniel J. Rice
“It has always been my belief that you can judge the compatibility of two people by the rhythm of their paddle stroke.”
Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

Daniel J. Rice
“Fly fishing is not a braggers game. There’s no glory to win. No competition or comparison between humans. It’s not about growing ego, but removing it. No fish will provide this lesson. It must come from the conscience of the angler. In the most simple explanation, fly fishing is an introspective quest to tame one’s own mind. This can be shared with others, but only discovered alone.”
Daniel J. Rice, Familiar Waters: A lifetime of fly fishing Montana

Daniel J. Rice
“There is happiness here that others have found, though it must be floating on the dreams they’ve drowned. I shall live my life with buoyancy. My hopes and dreams wait ahead of me.”
Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

Daniel J. Rice
“The molting light glowed on the horizon where darkness wriggled itself free and shook off the sun like the nymphal skin of a mayfly. The magenta sky fell down. Golden embers of fire disappeared into darkness. This was a mysterious world and he wanted to paint it. He wanted to capture it the way he saw it now. He crawled into his tent and fell asleep to the thought that we are all painters of a mysterious world, a world of colors only magic could explain, and viewed only through the prismatic distortion of our own eyes.”
Daniel J. Rice, THIS SIDE OF A WILDERNESS: A Novel

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