What will not attract a man’s stare at sea?—a gull, a turtle, a flying fish!

But look, our seas are what we make of them, full of fish or not, opaque or transparent, red or black, high or smooth, narrow or bankless—and we are ourselves sea, sand, coral, seaweed, beaches, tides, swimmers, children, waves.

Take back your golden fiddles, and we’ll beat to open sea.

Seamen are the nearest to death and the furthest from God.

Ocean. A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man—who has no gills.

In all the ancient states and empires, those who had the shipping, had the wealth.

The sea receives us in a proper way only when we are without clothes.

We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea—whether it is to sail or to watch it—we are going back whence we came.

I never even saw the use of the sea. Many a sad heart has it caused, and many a sick stomach has it occasioned! The boldest sailor climbs on board with a heavy soul and leaps on land with a light spirit.

Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so shall you come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.

The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.

The winds and the waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators.

The sea yields action to the body, meditation to the mind, the world to the world, all parts thereof to each part, by this art of arts—navigation.