Moby Dick: or, the White Whale

Nevertheless, this old man's was a patient hammer wielded by a patient arm. No murmur, no impatience, no petulance did come from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over still further his chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil were life itself, and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating of his heart. And so it was.—Most mi

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!"

"Against the wind he now steers for the open jaw,"

Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that.

Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe."

"Hast seen the White Whale?"

For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.

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