Herman Melville Quotes

It was the noise Of ancient trees falling while all was still Before the storm, in the long interval Between the gathering clouds and that light breeze Which Germans call the Wind's bride.

You do have a modicum of peace of mind here, but it's as unsettled as any other place.

The greatest problem all around the world today, whether in America, Japan, China Russia, India or anywhere else in the world, is that people are not in peace. People want peace.

When you are in the eye of the storm, you are often not aware of the whiplash around you.

War is unsettling.

I look at basketball as like a storm. But it's the eye of the storm. The calmest place of it is to be right in the eye of it. And that's what basketball is for me; it's my eye. And while everything else around me is going on,' he continued, 'the destruction and things like that, basketball keeps me calm.

Their peace and their war Are like wind and storm. War grows from their peace.

I am mountains that crush. I am waves that crash. I am storms that shatter. I am the end.

The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.

In the presence of the storm, thunderbolts, hurricane, rain, darkness, and the lions, which might be concealed but a few paces away, he felt disarmed and helpless.

They never exhale, the trees; on a very windy day, they rustle and inhale, and then the leaves and the branches all tremble as though something means to strangle the life from them. The sky watches on. The world is filled with anticipation, as if to wonder if this day will be a great day, or a horrible day, or the last day.

We rode on the winds of the rising storm, We ran to the sounds of the thunder. We danced among the lightning bolts, and tore the world asunder.

My life was the best omelette you could make with a chainsaw

A violent wind does not last for a whole morning.

It is the stillest words that bring the storm.

When war begins, then hell openeth.

Violence is not the way.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our teeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurour and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man!

I believe the common denominator of the Universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility and murder.

E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend, Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne, As light straw and rapid stubble fly In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.

My right hand was sort of casually near my gun, without looking like I was reaching for my gun. It wasn't easy. Reaching for a gun usually looks like reaching for a gun. No one seemed to notice though. Goody for our side.

Solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant. They make a wilderness and they call it peace.

There is something so perfect about the mountains and the lake and the trees... sometimes I want to tear it all to pieces.