The Sea (n.) is able to bring out a man. Salt water is like wine, in that respect.
The Sea (n.) is gendered as a deeply masculine, dark, bottomless thing in which so many rushing leviathans, swordfish, and sharks serve as its troubled murderous thinkings.
The Sea (n.) is representative of adventure, of life itself.
The Sea's (n.) most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure in a kind of universal cannibalism whereby creatures prey upon each other, carrying on eternal war since the world began.
The Sea (n.) is necessary for the making of the great man. Never was a great man yet who spent all his life inland.
The Sea (n.) is a thing which, when beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of its skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it... and would not willingly remember that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.
The Sea (n.) has a sweet mystery, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath.