I felt a melting in me. No more my splintered heart and maddened hand were turned against the wolfish world. - Herman Melville

It is not down on any map; true places never are.

It was the whiteness of the whale that above all things appalled me.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul;
whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses,
and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet;
and especially when my hypos get such an upper hand of me,
that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off-
then, I account it high time to get to a bookstore as soon as I can.
That is my substitute for the pistol and ball.