The wonderful sea charmed me from the first.

We are as near to heaven by sea as by land!

What will not attract a man’s stare at sea?—a gull, a turtle, a flying fish!

Of all objects that I have ever seen, there is none which affects my imagination so much as the sea or ocean. A troubled ocean, to a man who sails upon it, is, I think, the biggest object that he can see in motion, and consequently gives his imagination one of the highest kinds of pleasure that can arise from greatness.

He that commands the sea is at great liberty and may take as much and as little of the war as he will.

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

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

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

The Mediterranean has the colors of a mackerel, changeable I mean. You don’t always know if it is green or violet—you can’t even say it’s blue, because the next moment the changing light has taken on a tinge of pink or gray.

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.

The sea hath no king but God alone.

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

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.