I'll try a pagan friend, thought I, since Christian kindness has proved but hollow courtesy.

It is with fiction as with religion: it should present another world, and yet one to which we feel the tie.

He who goes oftenest round Cape Horn goes the most circumspectly.

The consciousness of being deemed dead, is next to the presumable unpleasantness of being so in reality. One feels like his own ghost unlawfully tenanting a defunct carcass.

When the passage "All men are born free and equal," when that passage was being written were not some of the signers legalised owners of slaves?

In one word, Queequeg, said I, rather digressively; hell is an idea first born on an undigested apple-dumpling; and since then perpetuated through the hereditary dyspepsias nurtured by Ramadans.

How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg - a cosy, loving pair.