Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

The most advanced nations are always those who navigate the most.

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

Ocean. A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man—who has no gills.

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

The power which the sea requires in the sailor makes a man of him very fast, and the change of shores and population clears his head of much nonsense of his wigwam.

The legislator is like the navigator of a ship on the high seas. He can steer the vessel on which he sails, but he cannot alter its construction, raise the wind, or stop the waves from swelling beneath his feet.

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

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

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.

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

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

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