I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.

I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.

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.

There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life when a man takes his whole universe for a vast practical joke