Moby Dick: or, the White Whale

The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

This it is, that for ever keeps God's true princes of the Empire from the world's hustings; and leaves the highest honors that this air can give, to those men who become famous more through their infinite inferiority to the choice hidden handful of the Divine Inert, than through their undoubted superiority over the dead level of the mass.

For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal.

There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.

The dead, blind wall butts all inquiring heads at last.

"Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!"

Oh! many are the Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks, my friend.

They are fighting Quakers; they are Quakers with a vengeance.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from