“The principal quality, he continued, demanded of a swimmer is a ‘feel for water.’ He should use his arms and legs as a fish its fins, and be able to feel the pressure of water on his hands, to hold it in his palm as he pulls the stroke through without allowing it to slip through his fingers. Rose believed that like water-diviners, only those succeed who have a natural affinity for it” (13).
“If a swimmer can remain on his rival’s hip, he can be carried along in his surge, inherit the other’s momentum, and also act as an anchor on the man in front” (15).
“The swimmer’s solitary training, the long hours spent semi-submerged, induce a lonely, meditative state of mind. Much of a swimmer’s training takes place inside his head, immersed as he is in a continuous dream of a world of water. so intense and concentrated are his conditions that he becomes prey to delusions and neuroses beyond the experiences of other athletes. This peculiar psychology of the swimmer, and his ‘feel for water,’ form the basic themes of this book” (17).
“For Byron swimming was primarily a muscular activity. Unlike Shelley and Swinburne, he was not intrigued by what lay below the surface. There are no descriptions in his work of underwater scenes. On his final voyage to Athens he would make himself a ‘man forbid, take his station at the railings, and sit for hours in silence,’ but it was the ‘billows’ melancholy flow’ that held him rather than visions of the submarine” (105).
Byron “Despite attempts to achieve some form of mystic union with the spirit of a place—‘Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part of me and of my soul, as I of them’—he realized that he could never really lose his own ‘wretched identity’ and expressed his limitations characteristically in swimming terms” (123).
“Like Narcissus many of the swimmers suffered from a form of autism, a self-encapsulation in an isolated world, a morbid self-admiration, an absorption in fantasy” (134).
“Swimming, like opium, can cause a sense of detachment from ordinary life. Memories, especially those of childhood, can be evoked with startling strength in vivid and precise detail” (135).
“On the whole they reject the material world, respectability, the industrial system and contemporary society. They were generally out of harmony with their age, idealists who felt deeply the futility of life, the contrast between what life is and what it ought to be. It was as though water, like opium, provided the swimmers with a heightened existence, a refuge from the everyday life they loathed” (136-37).
“Through swimming he was transported back to that world of weird ritual and mythology described in his novels” (172).
“Shelley returned crayfish to the Thames after buying them and Haydon was astonished by the paradox of his cruel treatment of women, his consideration for fish” (183).
“Wittgenstein, at Cambridge soon after Brooke, swam in Byron’s pool and was fond of drawing an analogy between philosophical thinking and swimming: ‘Just as one’s body has a natural tendency toward the surface and one has to make an exertion to get to the bottom—so it is with thinking’” (185).
Ernst Junger “But as he trembled on the brink, the prospect of crossing the frontier, of translating his dreams into reality and taking the first step from an ‘ordered life into the disorders of the world’ proved almost too formidable—‘If you stand on a high diving-board and are unused to diving you can clearly distinguish between two persons—one who wants to jump and another who keeps drawing back. If the attempt to throw yourself in, as it were, fails, there is another solution. It consists in tricking yourself by making your body sway to and fro on the extreme edge of the board until you are suddenly forced to jump. I quite realized that nothing was more of an obstacle to my efforts to take the first plunge into he world of adventure than my own fear” (220).
“The image of the diver was used by Edgar Allan Poe to express he uncontrollable urge for self-destruction that he believed inherent in everyone. ‘There is no passion in nature so demonically impatient as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a plunge” (242-43).