The days that make us happy make us wise

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.

The Thames is a wretched river after the Mersey and the ships are not like Liverpool ships and the docks are barren of beauty ... it is a beastly hole after Liverpool; for Liverpool is the town of my heart and I would rather sail a mudflat there than command a clipper out of London

And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain, And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.

Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.