...I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote.
...there floated into my innermost soul, endless processions of the whale, and, midmost of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like a snow hill in the air.
It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless.
Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. (Of the bar keep at the Spouter)
Though true cylinders without-within, the villainous green giggling glasses deceitful tapered downwards to a cheating bottom.
Sartainty
Better sleep with a sober cannibal than a drunken Christian.
But Queequeg, do you see, was a creature in the transition state-neither caterpillar nor butterfly. He was just enough civilized to show off his outlandishness in the strangest possible manner.
