This week's may not be as fun for some people, but I decided to pull some great quotes from the so-called Great American Novel. (Note: When the title "Great American Novel" was coined, it was NOT in reference to
Moby-Dick. In fact, it wasn't in reference to anything, because nothing of the sort existed at the time.)
You might ask why I would do such a thing, and why I am even reading it in the first place. I read it two years ago for a class, and I did a shabby job of it. I now have the same professor and I am required to, once again, read this daunting novel. But I actually love the book. I'm reading it slowly since I want to take it all in.
And listed below are some choice quotes. I selected them for their elegance, their humor, the brilliance of Herman Melville, or for any other of the million reasons this book is so damn good.
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Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.
–Chapter 36, "The Quarter-Deck""He's killed himself," she cried . . . "it will be the ruin of my house. Has the poor lad a sister? Where's that girl?–there, Betty, go to Snarles the Painter, and tell him to paint me a sign, with–'no suicides permitted here, and no smoking in the parlor;'–might as well kill both birds at once. Kill?
–Chapter 17, "The Ramadan"
Illustration by A. Burnham Shute, from the 1892 edition published by HarperFor small erections
may be finished by their first architects; grand ones, true ones, ever leave the copestone to posterity. God keep me from ever completing anything. This whole book is but a draught–nay, but the draught of a draught. Oh, Time, Strength, Cash, and Patience! –Chapter 32, "Cetology"
Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian. –Chapter 3, "The Spouter-Inn"
From www.cqaf.com
Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor, because of the wholesome exercise and pure air of the forecastle deck. For as in this world, head winds are far more prevalent than winds from astern (that is, if you never violate the Pythagorean* maxim) . . . –Chapter 1, "Loomings"
*The Greek philosopher Pythagoras (6th century B.C.E.) advised not eating beans because they cause flatulence. Melville jokes about the location of the tiny privies on the sides of whaleships–toward the bow, while the captain's quarters are at the stern.
Moby-Dick and Ahab, by Claus Hoie (1911, Norwegian/American)Erskine was on the other side; and he then supported it by saying, that though the gentleman had originally harpooned the lady, and had once had her fast, and only by reason of the great stress of her plunging viciousness, had at last abandoned her; yet abandon her he did, so that she became a loose-fish; and therefore when a subsequent gentleman re-harpooned her, the lady then became that subsequent gentleman's property, along with whatever harpoon might have been found sticking in her. –Chapter 89, "Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish"
It was our business to squeeze these lumps back into fluid. A sweet and unctuous duty! No wonder that in old times this sperm was such a favorite cosmetic. Such a clearer! such a sweetener! such a softener! such a delicious mollifier! After having my hands in it for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine and spiralize.
–Chapter 94, "A Squeeze of the Hand"
From www.theglitteringeye.comWe felt very nice and snug, the more so since it was so chilly out of doors; indeed out of bed-clothes too, seeing that there was no fire in the room. The more so, I say, because truly to enjoy bodily warmth, some small part of you must be cold, for there is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself. If you flatter yourself that you are all over comfortable, and have been so a long time, then you cannot be said to be comfortable anymore. But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed, in the general consciousness you feel most delightfully and unmistakably warm. For this reason a sleeping apartment should never be furnished with a fire, which is one of the luxurious discomforts of the rich. For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.
–Chapter 11, "Nightgown"
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Dirty Projectors – Stillness is the Move
But it was more than just a concert; it was a conversation. It was a night of storytelling and music, with Patrick Wolf. Wolf shared family stories, inspirations for certain songs, funny anecdotes, and more. The crowd interacted with him enthusiastically, applauding and cheering at every opportunity, and there seemed to be an equal exchange between Patrick and his audience. (He even got two—count ‘em—two standing ovations!)
So fabulous.
Note to the viewers of Lady Sovereign’s show at Highline Ballroom last night: when a musician points her microphone at you, you’re supposed to sing. Yes, that’s right. You sucked as an audience.
Lady Sovereign pours beer into a fan's mouth
Read the rest of my review for the New York Press here!
