He Who Goes Oftenest Round Cape Horn

As A Man-of-war That Sails Through The Sea, So This Earth That Sails Through The Air. We Mortals Are All On Board A Fast-sailing,never-sinking World-frigate, Of Which God Was The Shipwright; And She Is But One Craft In A Milky-way Fleet, Of Which God Is The Lord High Admiral.

Be Sure Of This, O Young Ambition, All Mortal Greatness Is But Disease.

I Am Tormented With An Everlasting Itch For Things Remote. I Love To Sail Forbidden Seas.

Talk Not To Me Of Blasphemy, Man; I'd Strike The Sun If It Insulted Me.

That Author Who Draws A Character, Even Though To Common View Incongruous In Its Parts, As The Flying-squirrel, And, At Differentperiods, As Much At Variance With Itself As The Caterpillar Is With The Butterfly Into Which It Changes, May Yet, In So Doing, Be Not False But Faithful To Facts.