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[ Also see Animals Fishermen Fishing Flyfishing Herring Ocean Oysters Porpoises Trout Turbot Whales ]

Damn'd neuters, in their middle way of steering,
  Are neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring.
      - John Dryden, Duke of Guise
         (epilogue, l. 39)

God quickened in the Sea and in the Rivers,
  So many fishes of so many features,
    That in the waters we may see all Creatures;
      Even all that on the earth is to be found,
        As if the world were in deep waters drowned.
      - Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,
        Divine Weekes and Workes (wk. I, day 5)

He hath other fish to fry.
      - John Evelyn, Diary (vol. III, p. 132)

Fish f**k in it.
      - attributed to W.C. Fields,
        when asked why he never drank water

Fish marreth the water, and flesh doth dress it.
      - John Florio, First Fruites (fo. 29)

That fish will soon be caught that nibbles at every bait.
      - Thomas Fuller (1), Gnomologia (no. 4342)

Summer time an' the livin' is easy,
  Fish are jumpin' an' the cotton is high.
    Oh, yo' daddy's rich, and yo' ma' is good-lookin',
      So hush, little baby, don' yo' cry.
      - Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward,
        a song in the play "Porgy and Bess"

There's fish in the sea, no doubt of it,
  As good as ever came out of it.
      - Sir William Schwenk Gilbert, Patience
         (act I)

What female heart can gold despise?
  What cat's averse to fish?
      - Thomas Gray,
        On the Death of a Favorite Cat

Fish got to swim and birds got to fly
  I got to love one man till I die,
    Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.
      - Oscar Hammerstein II,
        Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man of Mine,
        a song in the play "Showboat"

The fish adores the bait.
      - George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum

She is neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring.
      - John Heywood, Proverbs

Neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring.
      - John Heywood, Proverbs (pt. I, ch. 10)

All is fish that that cometh to net.
      - John Heywood, Proverbs (pt. I, ch. 2)

For you catch your next fish with a piece of the last.
      - Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.,
        Verses for After Dinner

O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights,
  What is 't ye do? what life lead? eh, dull goggles?
    How do ye vary your vile days and nights?
      How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles
        In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes and bites,
          And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles.
      - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),
        Sonnets--The Fish, the Man, and the Spirit

The old men running the industry just have not got a clue . . . Britain is no longer totally a white place where people ride horses, wear long frocks and drink tea. The national dish is no longer fish and chips, it's curry.
      - Marianne Jean-Baptiste,
        in the "Observer" after being excluded from actor group promoting British talent at Cannes

Who, of men, can tell
  That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell
    To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail,
      The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale,
        The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones,
          The seed of its harvest, or the lute its tones,
            Tomes ravishment, or ravishment its sweet,
              If human souls did never kiss and greet?
      - John Keats (1), Endymion (bk. I, l. 835)

The Pobble who has no toes
  Had once as many as we;
    When they said, "Some day you may lose them all";--
      He replied,--"Fish fiddle de-dee!"
      - Edward Lear, The Pobble Who Has No Toes

When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
  When healths and draughts go free,
    Fishes, that tipple in the deep,
      Know no such liberty.
      - Richard Lovelace, To Althea, from Prison

Fishes that tipple in the deepe,
  Know no such liberty.
      - Richard Lovelace, To Althea, from Prison
         (st. 2)

The aquarium is gone. Everywhere,
  giant finned cars nose forward like fish;
    a savage servility
      slides by on grease.
      - Robert Lowell (1), For the Union Dead

Their monument sticks like a fishbone
  in the city's throat.
      - Robert Lowell (1), For the Union Dead

Cut off my head, and singular I am,
  Cut off my tail, and plural I appear;
    Although my middle's left, there's nothing there!
      What is my head cut off? A sounding sea;
        What is my tail cut off? A rushing river;
          And in their mingling depths I fearless play,
            Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.
      - Thomas Babington Macaulay,
        Enigma--On the Codfish

Down the road someone is practising scales,
  The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails,
    Man's heart expands to tinker with his car
      For this is Sunday morning, Fate's great bazaar.
      - Louis MacNeice, Sunday Morning

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