The Mediterranean has the colors of a mackerel, changeable I mean. You don’t always know if it is green or violet—you can’t even say it’s blue, because the next moment the changing light has taken on a tinge of pink or gray.

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.

I’ve been bathing in the poem / Of star-infused and milky sea / Devouring the azure greens.

Never trust her at any time when the calm sea shows her false alluring smile.

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

Ashore it’s wine, women, and song; aboard it’s rum, bum, and concertina.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm’s way.

The bathing was so delightful this morning, and Molly so pressing with me to enjoy myself, that I believe I stayed in rather too long, as since the middle of the day I have felt unreasonably tired. I shall be more careful another time, and shall not bathe tomorrow as I had before intended.

It is He who has subdued the ocean so that you may eat of its fresh fish and bring up from its depth ornaments to wear. Behold the ships plowing their course through it. All this, that you may seek His bounty and render thanks.

Seaward ho! Hang the treasure! It’s the glory of the sea that has turned my head.

I am ill every time it blows hard, and nothing but my enthusiastic love for the profession keeps me one hour at sea.

Many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that the sea folk live.