The swell was gently lifting and lowering the boat. My breathing grew slower, falling into step with the creaking of the hull, until I could no longer tell the difference between the faint rhythmic motion of the cabin and the sensation of filling and emptying my lungs. It was like floating in darkness: every inhalation buoyed me up, slightly; every exhalation made me sink back down again.
Schweitzer in the Congo did not derive more moral credit than Larkin did for living in Hull.Alan Bennett
Sir, their Hull is collapsing! [Kirk: Beam them out of there, Scotty.]