Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea (1952) a short novel of an old, down-on-his luck Cuban fisherman twined with the monstrous fish at the end of his line, battling him for three days.

The old man's struggle is lengthy: the line, his back and hands, a bottle of water, some strips of fish for sustenance, endurance, a direct dialogue with the fish. It's appealingly simple and poetic.

On pages 91 and 92 he says:

'Fish,' the old man said. 'Fish you are going to have to die anyway. Do you have to kill me too?' 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.

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