“… There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath … the waves should rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by their restlessness.…”

“… But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an incomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him.”

Moby Dick