Books : Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

And which ones were written by an AI?

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. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly March, abroad among strangers; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before tombstones, I have a suspicion that I shall never see my home again; and this suspicion is my bugbear.

In youth I spent much time at sea; and being by nature a wide-spread, long-reaching person, always liked it. But, somehow or other, I am a kind of amphibious creature, not at home on dry land, and wretched on water; so I never could learn to swim properly, and was very near being drowned more than once. But at present I am talking not of my own poor history, but of the history of a certain young gentleman (who, by-the-bye, is a sailor) of about my own age; and a very queer young fellow he is.

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. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

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 gloomy and morose, I have only to get into a ship and sail a few miles from the land to feel again as exhilarated as a man need be.

I had been for some time at the island of Nantucket, the beginning and the end of the sight-seers' track on the eastern coast, sailing about among its old, rusty, worm-eaten Dutch and English ships, thinking how often I had been in one or other of them; lying in my hammock, at night, and listening to the loud, deep booming of the surf upon the shore, and thinking how, in my time, I had stood upon the deck of one of them, on a still summer day, when the mid-Pacific rollers were flashing under the hull, and the spray glistening in the sunshine.

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 melancholy, I make it a rule to get into a ship and sail away from the land. It clears the brains and refocuses the imagination. At least it has a tendency to do so. But the sea is a melancholy place. Whether it be the reverse of the Rhine or not, this must be admitted, that the sea is a melancholy place. A man may be ever so happy ashore, but when he gets on board ship he is in another world. There is nothing but sea and sky overhead; not a house, not a sound to hear but that of the wind and the water; no birds, no insects, no companions but the ship and the clouds. There is hardly any kind of entertainment but a gale of wind and a heavy sea. We sailors are the melancholy people. The rest of the world is happy, but we are wretched.

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 March, raining what it pours; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; whenever I find myself reacting to each page of the morning paper with a somewhat querulous and even zealous disbelief concerning the realities of the world about me; whenever I find myself, in short, putting on the airs of a Babbitt, then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is probably a good time for me to mention that I am by nature a Copernican, and regard the earth as a star, and furthermore consider the business of man to be to live dangerously, daringly, cast all caution to the wind, act as if we were coming into port in a blow.

https://bellard.org/textsynth/

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

If you don't mind me asking you this question, Are you a Fan of the story "MOBY DICK" ?

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

The second one was written by 100 monkeys on a 100 typewriters for 100 years. All the rest were written by Allen Iverson.

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

He don’t need no stinking practice! He can write a novel in his sleep.

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

The beginning to my Moby Dick is first taking my pants off…
But only if you are a chick.
No homo bro!

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

The beginning of my Moby dick is when I take off my pants and put them on a hanger on the door and walk up to your room, you’ll see my big cock. The next day is when you’re doing what you want to do, I’m getting down on my knees, take off my pants and tell you to come in and sit on my face.

After the first time he fucks her throat, he goes back in her mouth and she swallows his cum. And then I am like, well what the hell are you doing, why don’t you just get this over with? Because I love a woman who’s not just going to do things just because you tell her to. She was like, I don’t mind you doing that, because I know I’m going to be giving it up to you eventually. He’s like, I just love that in a woman. She’s like, well, if you love that, then

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

This one is real?

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 gloomy and morose, I have only to get into a ship and sail a few miles from the land to feel again as exhilarated as a man need be.

I had been for some time at the island of Nantucket, the beginning and the end of the sight-seers' track on the eastern coast, sailing about among its old, rusty, worm-eaten Dutch and English ships, thinking how often I had been in one or other of them; lying in my hammock, at night, and listening to the loud, deep booming of the surf upon the shore, and thinking how, in my time, I had stood upon the deck of one of them, on a still summer day, when the mid-Pacific rollers were flashing under the hull, and the spray glistening in the sunshine.

Re: Which extract is the real beginning to Moby Dick?

I vote the third one.

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