Fishermen Lost At Sea Quotes

All the long afternoon, the sea was suspended there before their eyes only as a canvas of attractive colouring might hang on the wall of a wealthy bachelor’s flat and it was only in the intervals between the ‘hands’ that one of the players, finding nothing better to do, raised his eyes to it to seek from it some indication of the weather or the time, and to remind the others that tea was ready. And at night they did not dine in the hotel, where, hidden springs of electricity flooding the great dining-room with light, it became as it were an immense and wonderful aquarium against whose wall of glass the working population of Balbec, the fishermen and also the tradesmen’s families, clustering invisibly in the outer darkness, pressed their faces to watch, gently floating upon the golden eddies within, the luxurious life of its occupants, a thing as extraordinary to the poor as the life of strange fishes or molluscs (an important social question, this: whether the wall of glass will always protect the wonderful creatures at their feasting, whether the obscure folk who watch them hungrily out of the night will not break in some day to gather them from their aquarium and devour them).

Rad had written a two-sentence response for his comparison/contrast between Moby Dick and The Old Man and the Sea: “The fishermen lost their fish, and that was IT. Nothing to write books about, and the ‘literary devices’ you want listed are nothing but made-up complications for a useless major.

Irish fishermen’s prayer: “Dear God, be good to me. The sea is so wide and my boat is so small.

Murphy’s theme was now the island of Po Toi and he was dilating on it remorselessly. Volcanic, sir, he said. Hardest rock substance of the whole Hong Kong group, sir, he said. And the most southerly of the islands, he said. Seven hundred and ninety feet high, sir; fishermen use it as a navigation point from far out to sea, sir, he said. Technically not one island but a group of six islands, the other five being barren and treeless and uninhabited. Fine temple, sir. Great antiquity. Fine wood carvings but little natural water. “Jesus Christ, Murphy, we’re not buying the damn place, are we?” Martello expostulated. With action close and London far away, Martello had lost a lot of his gloss, Guillam noticed, and all his Englishness. His tropical suits were honest-to-cornball American, and he needed to talk to people, preferably his own.