The WHITENESS OF THE WHALE
Since I bought for myself for Christmas (MERRY CHRISTMAS, ME!) The Gigantic Collection of MOBY DICK IN PICTURES, I am currently rereading Moby Dick with the picture book at hand. It’s good. It’s fun being at a bar with my big picture book and my old school copy of Moby Dick (given to me by the grandfather, approx 50 years old) and sitting my butt down at an entire table which all my books take up with a pint of Winter Ale, neck wrapped in a scarf like a noose and I don’t move from that spot for 3 hours. Picture of Pretentiousness kind of story. but whatever.
look how prettttty…pretty fish…pretty boat
“But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattlel; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke.”
“The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in a time.”
“What a fine frosty night; how Orion glitters; What northern lights! Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals.
But what thinks lazarus? Can he warm his blue hands by holding them up to the grand northern lights? Would not Lazarus rather be in Sumatra than here? Would he not far rather lay him down lengthwise along the line of the equator; yea, ye gods! go down to the fiery pit itself, in order to keep out this frost?”
To purchase original paintings from the collection, CLICK HERE! but I assume you’re all broke anyway. Especially if you have time to read this blog.