واضطجعت القوارب الثلاثة هنالك في رفق على سطح الماء المتدحرج وهي تحدق في الظهيرة الأبدية الزرقاء، ولم تنبعث من أعماق الزرقة أنّة أو صيحة ما، لا ولم تنطلق اهتزازة أو نفاخة ماء، فلو أن أحد أبناء البر شهد هذا المشهد أكان يخطر له أن أشد الحيوانات البحرية وحشية يتلوّى ويتعقص بالعذاب المبرح تحت ظاهر ذلك الصمت وتلك السكينة المطمئنة؟
What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about- however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way- either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.
ومثلما أن أطفال الآدميين يحدقون في هدوء وثبات بعيدا عن الثدي وهم يرضعون كأنما يحيون حياتين في آن معا - فبينما هم يمتكون الغذاء الجسدي ما يزالون روحيا يستطيبون ذكريات غير أرضية - كذلك كان يفعل صغار أولئك الحيتان، كانوا كأنما ينظرون نحونا إلى أعلى ولكنهم لا ينظروننا، كأننا عشبة من أعشاب الخليج في أنظارهم الوليدة الحديثة العهد بالنظر.
Look not too long in the face of the fire O man!...believe not the artificial fire, when its redness makes all things look ghastly. Tomorrow, in the natural sun, the skies will be bright; those who glared like devils in the forking flames, the morn will show in far other, at least gentler relief; the glorious, golden, glad sun, the only true lamp - all others but liars!Nevertheless the sun hides not Virginia's dismal swamp, nor Rome's accursed Campagna, nor wide Sahara, nor all the millions of miles of deserts and of griefs beneath the moon. The sun hides not the ocean which is the dark side of this Earth, and which is two thirds of this Earth. So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in him, that mortal man cannot be true - not true, or undeveloped. With books the same. The truest of all men was The Man of Sorrows, and the truest of all books is Solomon's, and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of woe. 'All is vanity'. ALL. The wilful world hath not got hold of unchristian Solomon's wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and jails, and walks fast crossing grave yards, and would rather talk of operas than hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal, Rosseau, poor devils all sick of men; and throughout a carefree lifetime swears by Rabelais as passing wise, and therefore jolly; - not that man is fitted to sit down on tomb stones, and break the green damp mould unfathomable wounderous Solomon.
Thy shrunk voice sounds too calmly, sanely woeful to me. In no Paradise myself, I am impatient of all misery in others that is not mad. Thou should’st go mad, blacksmith; say, why dost thou not go mad? How can’st thou endure without being mad? Do the heavens yet hate thee, that thou can’st not go mad?
The morning was one peculiar to that coast. Everything was mute and calm; everything gray. The sea, though undulated into long roods of swells, seemed fixed, and was sleeked at the surface like waved lead that has cooled and set in the smelter's mould. The sky seemed a gray surtout. Flights of troubled gray fowl, kith and kin with flights of troubled gray vapors among which they were mixed, skimmed low and fitfully over the waters, as swallows over meadows before storms. Shadows present, foreshadowing deeper shadows to come.
At last I see it, I feel it; I penetrate to the predestinated purpose of my life. I am content. Others may have loftier parts to enact; but my mission in this world, Bartleby, is to furnish you with office-room for such period as you may see fit to remain.I believe that this wise and blessed frame of mind would have continued with me, had it not been for the unsolicited and uncharitable remarks obtruded upon me by my professional friends who visited the rooms. But thus it often is, that the constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of the more generous.
Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters and assorting them for the flames? For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded paper the pale clerk takes a ring:—the finger it was meant for, perhaps, moulders in the grave; a bank-note sent in swiftest charity:—he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to death. 250 Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!
وكلما ازددتُ تأملا في هذا الذنـَب الجبار زاد أسفي لعجزي عن وصفه. فله في بعض الأحيان حركات وإيماءات صوفية لا تـُفسًّر، وإن الحوت حقا يتحدث بهذه الوسائل إلى الكون في ذكاء وفطنة. وحركات الحوت كلها حافلة بالغرابة، فكيفما أخذتـُه بالتحليل والتشريح لم أتجاوز في العمق سُمك بشرته! فأنا أجهله وسأظل أجهله أبدا. وإذا لم أعرف حتى ذنـَبه فكيف أفهم رأسه؟ ثم – وهذا أبلغ – كيف أدرك وجهه حين لا يكون له وجه؟ ويبدو لي أنه يقول: سترى أجزائي الخلفية، سترى ذنـَبي، أما وجهي فلن تراه! ولكني لا أستطيع أن أستبين أجزاءه الخلفية تمام الاستبانة، ومهما يقل هو عن وجهه فإني أقول ثانية أنه لا وجه له.
How dost thou know that some entire, living, thinking thing may not be invisibly and uninterpenetratingly standing precisely where thou now standest; aye, and standing there in thy spite? In thy most solitary hours, then, dost thou not fear eavesdroppers? Hold, don’t speak! And if I still feel the smart of my crushed leg, though it be now so long dissolved; then, why mayst not thou, carpenter, feel the fiery pains of hell for ever, and without a body? Hah!