In all the ancient states and empires, those who had the shipping, had the wealth.

He who commands the sea has command of everything.

As to the sea itself, love it you cannot. Why should you? I will never believe again the sea was ever loved by anyone whose life was married to it. It is the creation of omnipotence, which is not of humankind and understandable, and so the springs of its behavior are hidden.

All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full.

We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea—whether it is to sail or to watch it—we are going back whence we came.

But look, our seas are what we make of them, full of fish or not, opaque or transparent, red or black, high or smooth, narrow or bankless—and we are ourselves sea, sand, coral, seaweed, beaches, tides, swimmers, children, waves.

A fair complexion is unbecoming to a sailor: he ought to be swarthy from the waters of the sea and the rays of the sun.

And to our age’s drowsy blood / Still shouts the inspiring sea.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, / Alone on a wide, wide sea!

Take back your golden fiddles, and we’ll beat to open sea.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast, for I intend to go in harm’s way.

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

The sea yields action to the body, meditation to the mind, the world to the world, all parts thereof to each part, by this art of arts—navigation.