D’ye feel brave, men, brave?
As fearless fire, cried Stubb

Helm there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going
What a lovely day again! were it a new-made world
and made for a summer-house to the angels
and this morning, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world
Here’s food for thought, had Ahab time to think
but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels
that’s tingling enough for mortal man! to think’s audacity
God only has that right and privilege
Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness
and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that

D’ye feel brave?

this old skull cracks so, like a glass
in which the contents turn to ice, and shiver it
And yet, I’ve sometimes thought my brain was very calm—frozen calm

but no, it’s like that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere
between the earthy clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius’ lava
How the wild winds blow it; they whip it about me
as the torn shreds of split sails lash the tossed ship they cling to
Were I the wind, I’d blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world
--all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as objects, not as agents--
I’d crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink there
And yet, ’tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind
--There’s a most special, a most cunning, oh, a most malicious difference--
who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow
--These warm Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on--
Run tilting at it, and you but run through it
Ha! a coward wind that strikes, but will not stand to receive a single blow
--in strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark--
Even Ahab is a braver thing—a nobler thing that that
--shift and swerve about, uncertain where to go at last--
but all the things that most exasperate and outrage mortal man
--uncertain where to go at last--
all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as objects
--these Trades, or something like them—something so unchangeable
and full as strong--
blow my keeled soul along

To it! Aloft there! What d’ye see?

Nothing, sir.