The sea never changes and its works, for all the talk of men, are wrapped in mystery. Yoke on the further billows . . . Herman Melville Were this world an endless pain, and by sailing eastward we could forever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise in the voyage. The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up. You take my meaning.
Death is the ultimate negative.
You can't not-be on a boat. I've frequently not been on boats. No, no, no - what you've been is not on boats. They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. For the truth is that I already know as much about my fate as I need to know.