Melville: Furry white monasteries...I have some pictures of those from my trip to Europe

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"...on the verge of the leaden-hued swells, with the shreds of fog her and there raggedly furring her, appeared like a white-washed monastery after a thunder-storm, seen perched upon some dun cliff among the Pyrenees" (Melville 490).

     I loved this quote the first time I read this work, and I love it just as much now.  The sound is just beautiful, as is the mental picture.  Reminds me of a scene I would picture while meditating.  Thank you Melville.

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