I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

The sea hath no king but God alone.

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.

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

The life of a sailor is very unhealthy.

Seamen are the nearest to death and the furthest from God.