But the past is passed; why moralize upon it? Forget it. See, yon bright son has forgotten it all, and the blue sea, and the blue sky; these have turned over new leaves. Because they have no memory . . . because they are not human.

I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best.

Death is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored.

Wag the world how it will, Leaves must be green in Spring.

The world's a ship on its voyage out, and not a voyage complete; and the pulpit is its prow.

In a multitude of acquaintances is less security, than in one faithful friend.

At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided. It was a sharp, cold Christmas; and as the short northern day merged into night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor.