Call Me Ishmael's Fan

I am presently completely enamored of the book Moby Dick. I was expressing my affection for the character of Ishmael to Melissa, when she lamented "another Ishmaelite..."

But who could fail to be taken by this opening passage (which makes me think of Alexander Pope's comment on Shakespeare's writing: "oft thought, but ne'er so well expressed"):

"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."

Brilliant!