“Thought – to call it by a prouder name that it deserved – had let its line down in the stream. It swayed, minute after minute, hither and thither among the reflections and the weeds, letting the water lift and sink it, until – you know the little tug – the sudden conglomeration of an idea at the end of one’s line: and then the cautious hauling of it in, and the careful laying of it out? Alas, laid on the grass how small, how insignificant this thought of mine looked; the sort that a good fisherman puts back into the water so that ....