Your dead sleep quietly, at least, Captain, out of reach of sharks" "Yes, sir, of sharks and men.

When I returned to partial life my face was wet with tears. How long that state of insensibility had lasted I cannot say. I had no means now of taking account of time. Never was solitude equal to this, never had any living being been so utterly forsaken.

He who is mistaken in an action which he sincerely believes to be right may be an enemy, but retains our esteem.

The sea is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion; it is the 'Living Infinite.

He must have travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.

Poets are like proverbs: you can always find one to contradict another.

Reality provides us with facts so romantic that imagination itself could add nothing to them.