The life of a sailor is very unhealthy.

He who commands the sea has command of everything.

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.

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.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, / Alone on a wide, wide sea!

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 most advanced nations are always those who navigate the most.

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

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

The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.

The wonderful sea charmed me from the first.

All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full.

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