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Can you catch the expression of the Sperm Whale’s there? It is the same he died with, only some of the longer wrinkles in the forehead seem now faded away. I think his broad brow to be full of a prairie-like placidity, born of a speculative indifference as to death. Mark the other head’s expression see that amazing lower lip, pressed by accident against the vessel’s side, so as firmly to embrace the jaw. Does not this whole head seem to speak of an enormous practical resolution in facing death. This Right Whale I take to have been a Stoic the Sperm Whale, a Platonian who might have taken up Spinoza. That there were no curtains to the window.

Who could show a cheek like Queequeg which, barred with various tints, seemed like the Andes western slope. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs commerce surrounds it with her surf. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there. That there were no curtains to the window, and that the street being very narrow, the house opposite.

Quickly followed suit and descending into the bar-room accosted the grinning landlord very cherished no malice towards him though he had been skylarking with in the matter of my bedfellow.

Among many other fine qualities, my royal friend Tranquo, being gifted with a devout love for all matters of barbaric vertu, had brought together in Pupella whatever rare things the more ingenious of his people could invent; chiefly carved woods of wonderful devices, chiselled shells, inlaid spears, costly paddles & aromatic canoes. All these distributed among whatever natural wonders.

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The bar-room was now full of the boarders who had been dropping in the night previous, and whom I had not as yet had a good look at. You could pretty plainly tell how long each one had been ashore. This young fellow’s healthy cheek is like a sun-toasted pear in hue, and would seem to smell almost as musky; he cannot have been three days landed from his Indian voyage. That man next him looks a few shades lighter you might say a touch of satin wood is in him. In the complexion of a third still lingers a tropic tawn, but slightly bleached withal.

A designer knows he has achieved perfection not
when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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by Jeff Sheldon