His was the scorn which thinks it not worth the while to be scornful. Those he most scorned, never knew it.
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Quotes by Herman Melville
Well, there is sorrow in the world, but goodness too; and goodness that is not greenness, either, no more than sorrow is.
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In time of peril, like the needle to the loadstone, obedience, irrespective of rank, generally flies to him who is best fitted to command.
from the book "White-Jacket, Or, the World in a Man-Of-War" by Melville Herman
I found that but to glean after this man, is better than to be in at the harvest of others.
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in Quotes & Aphorisms (Life)
The easiest way of life is the best.
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in Quotes & Aphorisms (Books)
Would that all excellent books were foundlings, without father or mother, that so it might be, we could glorify them, without including their ostensible authors.
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Were civilization itself to be estimated by some of its results, it would seem perhaps better for what we call the barbarous part of the world to remain unchanged.
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It is, or seems to be, a wise sort of thing, to realise that all that happens to a man in this life is only by way of joke, especially his misfortunes, if he have them. And it is also worth bearing in mind, that the joke is passed round pretty liberally & impartially, so that not very many are entitled to fancy that they in particular are getting the worst of it.
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Silence is the general consecration of the universe. Silence is the invisible laying on of the divine pontiff's hands upon the world. Silence is at once the most harmless and the most awful thing in all nature. It speaks of the reserved forces of fate. Silence is the only voice of our God.
from the book "Pierre: or, The Ambiguities" by Herman Melville
Oh, give me again the rover's life, the joy, the thrill, the whirl! Let me feel thee again, old sea! Let me leap into thy saddle once more. I am sick of these terra firma toils and cares; sick of the dust and reek of towns. Let me hear the clatter of hailstones on icebergs, and not the dull tramp of these plodders, plodding their dull way from their cradles to their graves. Let me snuff thee up, sea-breeze! And whinny in thy spray. Forbid it, sea-gods! Intercede for me with Neptune, o sweet Amphitrite, that no dull clod may fall on my coffin! Be mine the tomb that swallowed up Pharaoh and all his hosts; let me lie down with Drake, where he sleeps in the sea.
from the book "White-Jacket, Or, the World in a Man-Of-War" by Melville Herman