My Life In Word

“But when I am alone in the half light of the canyon, all existence seems to fade to a being with my soul in memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm, and a hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one. And a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s Great Flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.” ~Norman Maclean, read by Robert Redford

This quote from A River Runs Through It is on of my favorites because it feels timeless—quiet, layered, and deeply human. The words move like the river itself, carrying memory, loss, and connection without ever forcing meaning. The film’s power lies in its restraint, especially in the final scene, where everything—family, grief, faith—merges without explanation. The river becomes a symbol of continuity, reminding us that life flows on, even as it holds what has been lost.

What makes this quote especially meaningful to me is how I first captured it. I sat beside the television with my journal open, pen in hand, rewinding the VCR again and again with closed-captioning on, carefully writing each line. This was long before words were easily searchable, when saving something meant listening closely and taking the time to earn it.

Remembering that moment reminds me how central words have always been in my life. Perhaps that’s why the quote has stayed with me—not only for what it says, but for how it entered my life, slowly and deliberately, like a river finding its way.