Wit is the unexpected copulation of ideas.

Compulsion is the death of friendship.

There is a systematic flocci-nauci-nihili-pilification of all other aspects of existence that angers me.

I have often observed that extremely violent noise and activity go with good-fellowship and heightened spirits.

Why there you are, Stephen,' cried Jack. 'You are come home, I find.' That is true,' said Stephen with an affectionate look: he prized statements of this kind in Jack.

For very strangely his officers looked upon Jack Aubrey as a moral figure, in spite of all proofs of the contrary...

They will not be pleased. But they know we must catch the monsoon with a well-found ship; and they know they are in the Navy--they have chosen their cake, and must lie on it.' You mean, they cannot have their bed and eat it.' No, no, it is not quite that either. I mean--I wish you would not confuse my mind, Stephen.