The rule of life was that the boys got to decide which girls were pretty; it didn’t really matter how ugly they were themselves.
We’ve got to have rules and obey them. After all, we’re not savages. We’re English; and the English are best at everything.
There is no rule more invariable than that we are paid for our suspicions by finding what we suspect.
The sea does not belong to despots. Upon its surface men can still exercise unjust laws, fight, tear one another to pieces, and be carried away with terrestrial horrors. But at thirty feet below its level, their reign ceases, their influence is quenched, and their power disappears.
The rule of survival, he thought. Keep eye peeled regarding situation around you. Learn its demands. And — meet them. Be there at the right time doing the right thing.