It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.

We die, because we live.

Man and boy, I have lived ever since I can remember.

Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale... from hell's heart I stab at thee.

The most mighty of nature's laws is this, that out of Death she brings Life.

All round and round does the world lie as in a sharp-shooter's ambush, to pick off the beautiful illusions of youth, by the pitiless cracking rifles of the realities of age.

Of all the preposterous assumptions of humanity over humanity, nothing exceeds most of the criticisms made on the habits of the poor by the well-housed, well- warmed, and well-fed.