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.

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

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.

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

You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars.

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

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

Tomorrow we take to the mighty sea.

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

The wonderful sea charmed me from the first.

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.

The sea hath fish for every man.

He who travels by sea is nothing but a worm on a piece of wood, a trifle in the midst of a powerful creation. The waters play about with him at will, and no one but God can help him.