The wonderful sea charmed me from the first.

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.

The winds and the waves are always on the side of the ablest navigators.

The sea receives us in a proper way only when we are without clothes.

He who travels by sea is nothing but a worm on a piece of wood, a trifle in the midst of a powerful creation. The waters play about with him at will, and no one but God can help him.

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.

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

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.

I’ve been bathing in the poem / Of star-infused and milky sea / Devouring the azure greens.

Ashore it’s wine, women, and song; aboard it’s rum, bum, and concertina.

I am ill every time it blows hard, and nothing but my enthusiastic love for the profession keeps me one hour at sea.

Tomorrow we take to the mighty sea.

I never even saw the use of the sea. Many a sad heart has it caused, and many a sick stomach has it occasioned! The boldest sailor climbs on board with a heavy soul and leaps on land with a light spirit.