I’m really a peaceful sort of coward.

I’ll be a lady tomorrow

We clear the harbor and the wind catches her sails and my beautiful ship leans over ever so gracefully, and her elegant bow cuts cleanly into the increasing chop of the waves. I take a...

You’ve got to think of the fine times you had with your mate, not the moment of his perishin’. Every tear you shed now only wets his windin’ sheet and disturbs his rest

And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler?””The Foresail?””Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called…”…”The Next Sail, Sir?””Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.