I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

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

So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright; And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king.

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

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

Humans consist of body, mind and imagination. Our bodies are faulty, our minds untrustworthy, but our imagination has made us remarkable.

It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols.