1916 Autumn Trout #tt1916

Moderate drinking: enemies become friends. Hard drinking: friends become enemies.

It's always a mistake to pursue a theory too far.

George Rowe's cabin with the scenic backdrop of dead trees.

Two years is quite a slice out of ones life when almost 40!

Mark Robinson

3 days until I meet my fate. Solve the mystery #WhoKilledTomThomson

The War has given every woman that hangdog look. There is no longer joy in the eyes of anyone.

3 days until I meet my fate. Read my daily journal entries. Follow me live. ttlastspring.com

Martin Blecher: Private Investigator and Groundhog Wrangler - an awe-inspiring combination of professional and personal skills.

I embrace solitude

1916 Algonquin Park http://t.co/zXyT7oFQZ6 #tt1916 http://t.co/AkOX5hsVDD

Canoe Lake Forecast: 7/5/1917 High: 73F Low: 39F Rain: 0 inches.

Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

~ T.S. Eliot

I couldn't play the game in Toronto anymore. That's why I left.

The Canadian nation was born on the battlefield of St. Julien. - 1916 Varsity War Supplement

I am always getting excited when there is no cause for it,

1908 The Creek

In 1916 I worked with Ed Godin, following the Booth lumber drives down the Ottawa

Guiding yourself to bed by candlelight makes life feel less complicated.

The clouds clear in the evening and the full moon shone through. It reminds me of a sketch I did in 1915. But I'm not making another one.

4 days until I meet my fate. Follow the mystery #WhoKilledTomThomson

Be humble, be healthy, be willing to be taught.

I prefer a more direct handling of colour than focus on meticulous detail and perspective.

In 1908 I was hired by Albert Robson at Grip. He like my lettering designs.

Melt all the splendid blue above

The sunset of a few short moments ago

While in school in Chatham, I spent most of my money on movies and dances

1916 Pointer Boats #upclose 4 #tt1916

I was keenly interested in the work of Van Gogh

My grandfather was the most celebrated fisherman in Pickering, my father in Sydenham and me in Algonquin.

Expression is a spiritual necessity: self-glorification is a lack of something to express.

We were trawling in the middle of the lake with the copper line and lures, but we didn't catch anything.

Paint the scene as you see it. It will never repeat itself

Lismer said that I could smell the colour of ice.

Summer Sky

1917 Early Spring #tt1917

I'm having breakfast in the back kitchen of Mowat Lodge with Annie Fraser.

I picked raspberries on one side of the bush, while a bear was picking on the other.

1917 Portage Ragged Lake #tt1917