“In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christs disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.”
(Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories)
Good, old memories are like flightless birds perching on heart's wall - poised to fly but never flies.
(My poem 'MY DAYS OF YORE')
If you respect the fly and not kill it, you will feel better about yourself. Remove the fly humanely.
You don't always fly after you fall, but there is always a possibility that you fall after you fly.
Sometimes words do fly in the sky but when words do fly in the sky, there are no keyboards to type.
To me it's still a greater miracle when a fly flies than when a human being undertakes to do so.
(Karl Kraus (1874-1936), Austrian writer. Trans. by Harry Zohn, originally published in Beim Wort genommen (1955). Half-Truths and One-and-a-Half Truths, University of Chicago Press (1990).)