"There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seems to speak of some hidden soul beneath [ . . . ] for here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulism, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by their restlessness."
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Musing: The Pequod is sailing in the South Sea. I am in deep, deep love with this passage. The idea of "drowned dreams" and a "hidden soul" beneath the sea gives me goosebumps. I love the way Melville uses contrasts in this passage as well: "gently awful stirrings." Read this and think about it as it rocks you to sleep.