Only the guy who isn't rowing has time to rock the boat.
No matter how important a man at sea may consider himself, unless he is fundamentally worthy the sea will some day find him out.
Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.
I keep sailing on in this middle passage. I am sailing into the wind and the dark. But I am doing my best to keep my boat steady and my sails full.
Success soon palls. The joyous time is when the breeze first strikes your sails, and the waters rustle under your bows.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
To reach a port, we must sail - sail, not tie at anchor - sail, not drift.
If a man is to be obsessed by something, I suppose a boat is as good as anything, perhaps a bit better than most.
The cabin of a small yacht is truly a wonderful thing; not only will it shelter you from a tempest, but from the other troubles in life, it is a safe retreat.
There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not.
I wanted freedom, open air and adventure. I found it on the sea.
It isn't that life ashore is distasteful to me. But life at sea is better.
Only fools and passengers drink at sea.
No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.
Thats what a ship is, you know. Its not a keel and a hull and a deck and sails. Thats what a ship needs. But what a ship is. What the Black Pearl really is . . . is freedom.
One cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.
It is the weather, not work, that wears out sails.
He is the best sailor who can steer within fewest points of the wind, and exact a motive power out of the greatest obstacles.
The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.
Even now; with a thousand little voyages notched in my belt. I still feel a memorial chill on casting off.
The best that science can devise and that naval organization can provide must be regarded only as an aid, and never as a substitute for good seamanship.
Headwinds are sore vexations and the more passengers the sorer.
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 deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean.
The chance for mistakes is about equal to the number of crew squared.
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