He that commands the sea is at great liberty and may take as much and as little of the war as he will.

The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea.

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

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

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.

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

Tomorrow we take to the mighty sea.

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

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.

And to our age’s drowsy blood / Still shouts the inspiring sea.

Of all objects that I have ever seen, there is none which affects my imagination so much as the sea or ocean. A troubled ocean, to a man who sails upon it, is, I think, the biggest object that he can see in motion, and consequently gives his imagination one of the highest kinds of pleasure that can arise from greatness.

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

The life of a sailor is very unhealthy.