Quotes

Moby-Dick or the whale

1. Call me Ishmael. 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. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. 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. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

2."Why did the old Persians hold the sea holy? Why did the Greeks give it a separate deity, and own brother Jove? Surely all this is not without meaning. And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all."

3.Ces jours chauds, nuancés de fraîcheur, clairs, vibrants, odorants, débordants, généreux étaient pareils à un sorbet persan emplissant jusqu'au bord une coupe de cristal des flocons d'une neige à la rose. Les nuits étoilées, majestueuses, semblaient les dames hautaines dont les bijoux illuminaient des robes de velours et qui, dans une orgueilleuse solitude, berçaient dans l'absence le souvenir de leurs princes conquérants : les soleils casqués d'or. Pour un homme qui ne peut se passer de sommeil, il était dur de choisir entre des jours aussi captivants et d'aussi séduisantes nuits. Mais la magie soutenue de ces beaux jours ne prêtait pas seulement de nouveaux pouvoirs et de nouveaux envoûtements au monde extérieur, elle pénétrait jusqu'à l'âme surtout aux heures tranquilles et douces de l'approche du soir ; alors naissaient les cristaux du souvenir comme naissent les glaces les plus pures dans les crépuscules de silence.