Moby Dick 1 english

CALL ME ISHMAEL. Some years ago—never mind how
long precisely—having little or no money in my
purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore,
I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of
the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating
the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about
the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my
soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin
warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet;
and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of
me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from
deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking
people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea
as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With
a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I
quietly take to the ship.