Ryuso Mountain. January 1st. 4:50 am. The stone steps are solid. The way up is sure. Every day is a new day. . . . Just charge your light’s battery before you head off.

. . . . He looked down into the water and watched the lines that went straight down into the dark of the water. He kept them straighter than anyone did, so that at each level in the darkness of the stream there would be a bait waiting exactly where he wished it to be for any fish that swam there. Others let them them drift with the current and sometimes they were at  sixty fathoms when the fishermen thought they were at a hundred. . . .

. . . . But, he thought, I keep them with precision. Only I have no luck any more. But who knows? Maybe today. Every day is a new day. It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact.   

“There are many good fishermen and some great ones. But there is only you.”

“Thank you. You make me happy. I hope no fish will come along so great that he will prove us wrong.”

“There is no such fish if you are still strong as you say.”

“I may not be as strong as I think,” the old man said. “But I know many tricks and I have resolution.”

from The Old Man and the Sea