And now he has jumped more than a dozen times and filled the sacks along his back with air and he cannot go down deep to die where I cannot bring him up.

Then he was sorry for the great fish that had nothing to eat and his determination to kill him never relaxed in his sorrow for him. How many people will he feed, he thought. But are they worthy to eat him? No, of course not. There is no one worthy of eating him from the manner of his behaviour and his great dignity.

“I wish I had a stone for the knife,” the old man said after he had checked the lashing on the oar butt. “I should have brought a stone.” You should have brought many things, he thought. But you did not bring them, old man. Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. “You give me much good counsel,”

It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.

I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures.

I am not good for many more turns. Yes you are, he told himself. You’re good for ever.

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.

What will you do now if they come in the night? What can you do? “Fight them,” he said. “I’ll fight them until I die.