292 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



will come we know very well. Like these same 

 trout, we realise a danger, continually imminent, 

 that lurks in those things we love. But loving them, 

 feeling the need of them, we pursue them, some 

 carefully, others recklessly. This danger that we 

 call death (who knows what that Angler calls it ? ) 

 may be hidden anywhere in an oyster, a hunter, 

 a footstep cut in eternal ice, a glass of ruby wine, 

 an open window. Sooner or later, the Angler will 

 get us. But we avoid his snares as long as we can. 

 And while our lips proclaim ourselves the Lords of 

 Creation, our hearts tremble at the presumption. 

 For we know that it is a lie. 



So I think that I shall give up 



Excuse me. A large fish has just risen under 

 the willow. And here come the duns. 



