Give me a condor's quill! Give me Vesuvius crater for an inkstand!

And what is it, thought I, after all! It’s only his outside; a man can be honest in any sort of skin.

Immortality is but ubiquity in time.

Nothing can lift the heart of man like manhood in a fellow man.

When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without - oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!

When beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the ocean’s skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it; and would not willingly remember that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.

Out of the trunk, the branches grow; out of them, the twigs. So, in productive subjects, grow the chapters.