"But why say more? All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever present perils of life. And if you be a philosopher, though seated in the whale-boat, you would not at heart feel one whit more of terror, than though seated before your evening fire with a poker, and not a harpoon, by your side."
Musing: So, here we are, reading along as Ishmael describes to us how whale lines are strung together. Then - boom - this line hit us. We all live trapped by whale lines of some kind or another, Ishmael says. And I believe it, because I know that after a catastrophe, like a bad accident or a death, or a surgery, or a natural disaster, I suddenly realize those lines have been on me all along. I guess it doesn't matter if we are race car drivers or knitters, the lines are on us. And once we think about the lines that tether us, we can't not know. Egads - life . . .