“A writing may be lost; a lie may be written; but what the eye has seen is truth and remains in the mind!”

Everything can be found at sea according to the spirit of your quest.

God is for men, and religion for women.

There is nothing more enticing, disenchanting, and enslaving than the life at sea.

Facing it, always facing it, that’s the way to get through. Face it.

You shall judge a man by his foes as well as by his friends.

You can’t, in sound morals, condemn a man for taking care of his own integrity. It is his clear duty.

The ethical view of the universe involves us in so many cruel and absurd contradictions that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at all.

All roads are long which lead to one’s heart’s desire.

Everything belonged to him–but that was a trifle. The thing to know was what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own.

My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel–it is, before all, to make you see.

It’s extraordinary how we go through life with eyes half shut, with dull ears, with dormant thoughts. Perhaps it’s just as well; and it may be that it is this very dullness that makes life to the incalculable majority so supportable and so welcome.

The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.

What makes mankind tragic is not that they are the victims of nature, it is that they are conscious of it.

In order to move others deeply we must deliberately allow ourselves to be carried away beyond the bounds of our normal sensibility.

I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine.

It’s only those who do nothing that make no mistakes, I suppose.

If your eyes could speak what stories would it tell? Would it even be able to speak or would it end up choking on all the water?

Break me, Break me, Break me until the broken cells of my mind become the glitter of your eyes! My shattered glass neurons have become your tears now.

Fear not the devil’s darkness which you thought of as moonlight, Fear not, the waves knotted within your heart, which crashes onto your eyes waterline, there? Yes there! In that illusion exists you.

I closed my eyes held my face towards the sky and prayed inwardly for strength to grow. And suddenly it began to rain.

I told you about the moon, how it feels like your eyes; They both let me know where home is.

Nothing in the visual field allows you to infer that it is seen by an eye.

Touch you with no skin only with my eyes speak with no words only with my mind.

A million ways I have pondered upon what your eyes convey -but this time, I wouldn’t. -There is beauty in stillness.