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

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

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.

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.

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.

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 most advanced nations are always those who navigate the most.

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.

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.

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

The sea hath fish for every man.

Without a decisive naval force, we can do nothing definitive, and with it, everything honorable and glorious.

In all the ancient states and empires, those who had the shipping, had the wealth.