The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea.

The life of a sailor is very unhealthy.

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

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.

Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full.

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

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.

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.

It is He who has subdued the ocean so that you may eat of its fresh fish and bring up from its depth ornaments to wear. Behold the ships plowing their course through it. All this, that you may seek His bounty and render thanks.

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.

Seaward ho! Hang the treasure! It’s the glory of the sea that has turned my head.