Excerpt from Moby Dick #7

But as he sat still for a moment, and as he steadfastly looked into the mate's malignant eye and perceived the stacks of powder-casks heaped up in him and the slow- match silently burning along towards them; as he instinctively saw all this, that strange forbearance and unwillingness to stir up the deeper passionateness in any already ireful being - a repugnance most felt, when felt at all, by really valiant men even when aggrieved - this nameless phantom feeling, gentlemen, stole over Steelkilt.

- Ishmael, Chapter 54