"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." Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Ishmael Smith, 1950 to 23rd January 2020
Across the dark seas of night to the bright shores of morning.
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6 comments:
A time to reflect for us all, Mrs I. I think we were all on a journey.
As an aside, I would add that I very much appreciate your decision and efforts in continuing with this blog and our conversations.
Best wishes, Mike
Well said, mr Mike. Seconded.
v./
Yes, thank you, Mrs Ishmael.
Thank you, ishmaelites. It was what he wanted. mr ishmael was the first to mock the whole idea of doing what the deceased wanted - he'd say, the bloke's dead, that's why we're at the funeral, what he wants doesn't matter anymore. But - but - he did want somewhere for us all to hang out together on this corner of cyber street, and I have been helped enormously by you all. So thank you for keeping the candle alight.
Same as the others above, Mrs I. Still a haven.
Thank you, mr B.B.
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