Life’s a voyage that’s homeward bound.

Beware the People weeping When they bare the iron hand.

In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary?

The fact is, that among his hunters at least, the whale would by all hands be considered a noble dish, were there not so much of him; but when you come to sit down before a meat-pie nearly one hundred feet long, it takes away your appetite.

We talk of the Turks, and abhor the cannibals; but may not some of them, go to heaven, before some of us?

Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty. Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale. Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal. Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness. Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation. Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway.

If not against us, nature is not for us.