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He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had goneeighty-four days now without taking a fish. In the first forty days a boy had been with him ( 1 Hemingway ).
In the dark the old man could feel the morning coming and as he rowed he heard thetrembling sound as flying fish left the water and the hissing that their stiff set wings madeas they soared away in the darkness ( 28 Hemingway).
He was happy feeling the gentle pulling and then he felt something hard andunbelievably heavy ( 42 Hemingway ).
The old man had seen many great fish. He had seen many that weighed more than athousand pounds and he had caught two of that size in his life, but never alone. Nowalone, and out of sight of land, he was fast to the biggest fish that he had ever seen andbigger than he had ever heard of, and his left hand was still as tight as the gripped clawsof an eagle ( 62 Hemingway ).
The shark swung over and the old man saw his eye was not alive and then he swungover once again, wrapping himself in two loops of the rope. The old man knew that hewas dead but the shark would not accept it ( 100 Hemingway ).
He was asleep when the boy looked in the door in the morning. It was blowing sohard that the drifting-boats would not be going out and the boy had slept late and thencome to the old man’s shack as he had come each morning ( 121 Hemingway ).

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