All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever present perils of life.

[T]here is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.

We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.

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, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of the living God who slights it.

Call me Ishmael.