Category Archives: Oceanic

27-Mist

Spoutings

July 29, 2019 at 1:15 PM

THAT for six thousand years

—and no one knows how many millions of ages before

—the great whales should have been spouting all over the sea, and sprinkling and mistifying the gardens of the deep, as with so many sprinkling or mistifying pots; and that for some centuries back, thousands of hunters should have been close by the fountain of the whale, watching these sprinklings and spoutings

—that all this should be, and yet, that down to this blessed minute (fifteen and a quarter minutes past one o’clock P.M. of this sixteenth day of December, A.D. 1851), it should still remain a problem, whether these spoutings are, after all, really water, or nothing but vapour

—this is surely a noteworthy thing.

Moby Dick; or, The Whale (Chap. 85: The Fountain) by Herman Melville

12-Murk

Shadows

It needs scarcely to be told, with what feelings, on the eve of a Nantucket voyage, I regarded those marble tablets, and by the murky light of that darkened, doleful day read the fate of the whalemen who had gone before me.

Yes, Ishmael, the same fate may be thine. But somehow I grew merry again. Delightful inducements to embark, fine chance for promotion, it seems–aye, a stove boat will make me an immortal by brevet.

Yes, there is death in this business of whaling–a speechlessly quick chaotic bundling of a man into Eternity. But what then?

And therefore three cheers for Nantucket; and come a stove boat and stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.

Chapter 3 – The Chapel, Moby Dick by Herman Melville

03-Jump

Coolest

Truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast.

Nothing exists in itself.

If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable any more.

But if the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm.

For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich.

For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air.

Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.

Chapter 11, NightgownMoby Dick by Herman Melville


* Thank you Will Henry for Wallace-the-Brave

13-Grip

Oaring

Stroke!

One has to accept pain as a condition of existence. One has to court doubt and darkness as the cost of existence. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to the total acceptance of living and dying.

The Shoes of the Fisherman by Morris L. West,