“All men live enve­lo­ped in wha­le-lines. All are born with hal­ters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sud­den turn of death, that mor­tals rea­lize the silent, subt­le, everpre­sent perils of life. And if you be a phi­lo­sop­her, though sea­ted in the wha­le-boat, you would not at heart feel one whit more of ter­ror, than though sea­ted befo­re your eve­ning fire with a poker, and not a har­poon, by your side.” #

Her­man Mel­vil­le: Moby Dick, Chap­ter 60: The Line #