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.
“Fish,” he said, “I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends.” Let us hope so, he thought.
Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.
But, thank God, they are not as intelligent as we who kill them; although they are more noble and more able.
It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.
“But man is not made for defeat,” he said. “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”
No one should be alone in their old age, he thought. But it is unavoidable.
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.