Francis Chichester

“I do not know if all kinds of solitary living have the same effect. The solitary sea-life . . . makes me think and feel more than is comfortable for my peace of mind. I have dreadful attacks of remorse. My chief remorse is for unkind acts to friends in the past. Maybe something deeply wounding that I have said or done. Then I find myself stuck with such things for ever; they cannot be undone and the awful thing is that often they did not mean much to me, nor were even seriously believed, but were used as a cruel weapon to hurt. Thank heaven I have a lot of jobs and work waiting to be done; otherwise, if able to lay about with nothing to do but think and feel, I would soon get into a maudlin state and eventually I can imagine the possibility of finding life too hard and cruel to bear. This life makes one so sympathetic with others in trouble with their conscience or unable to cope with the overwhelming difficulties of their life. . . . For me, to be nine months alone without aim, project, objective, challenge, would mean exposing my soul far too much. I can understand it being damaged or destroyed by continuous considering of it, relentless probing of it. I can only stand a very little peep of it now and then. Thank God for activity of body and mind to keep me away from my soul.”
― Francis Chichester

“How stupid to be always trying to do things. What wonderful thrills, excitements, longings, desires and, of course, successes to be had as often as you like by daydreaming. As I said, contrast is the key to these delights; suddenly I had no commitments, worries, frustrations, and my feelings opened like a flower on a sunny spring morning.”
― Francis Chichester