soliloquies scarcely touching upon chocolate, Lucía's eyes or decorous prose
Or is it, that as in essence whiteness is not so much a color as the visible absence of color, and at the same time the concrete of all colors; is it for these reasons that there is such a dumb blankness, full of meaning, in a wide landscape of snows – a colorless, all-color of atheism from which we shrink?
Por el oro fulgurante que el monomaníaco ha clavado en el palo mayor, estos hombres se han entregado a la desesperada certidumbre de enfrentar a un enemigo invencible. No es el brillo del doblón lo que finalmente ha conseguido seducirlos. Ni los ha contagiado la locura en los ojos de Ahab. Es, sin duda, el vértigo de una persecución masoquista, de un regreso imposible, de una derrota segura, de un doblón inalcanzable que sólo pertenecerá -cuando la ballena lo decida- a las profundidades del mar.
“Moby Dick” evokes a grandiloquent imagenary, an epic ordeal, a path banished for feeble souls. Melville, The White Whale, Led Zeppelin, John Bonham.
Now, as you well know, it is not seldom the case in this conventional world of ours -watery or otherwise; that when a person placed in command over his fellow-men finds one of them to be very significantly his superior in general pride of manhood, straightway against that man he conceives an unconquerable dislike and bitterness; and if he have a chance he will pull down and pulverize that subaltern’s tower, and make a little heap of dust of it.