The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.

The sea hath fish for every man.

Ships at a distance have every man’s wish on board.

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 sole business of a seaman onshore who has to go to sea again is to take as much pleasure as he can.

Many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea. It is down there that the sea folk live.

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.

Why is a ship under sail more poetical than a hog in a high wind? The hog is all nature, the ship is all art.

Never trust her at any time when the calm sea shows her false alluring smile.

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.

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.

He who commands the sea has command of everything.