In speaking thus, Michel made his prosaic companions shrug their shoulders. Barbicane and Nicholl looked upon the lunar map from a very different point of view to that of their fantastic friend. Nevertheless,their fantastic friend was a little in the right. Judge for yourselves.
In the left hemisphere stretches the "Sea of Clouds,"where human reason is so often shipwrecked. Not far off lies the "Sea of Rains," fed by all the fever of existence. Near this is the "Sea of Storms," where man is ever fighting against his passions, which too often gain the victory. Then, worn out by deceit, treasons,infidelity, and the whole body of terrestrial misery,what does he find at the end of his career? that vast"Sea of Humors," barely softened by some drops of the waters from the "Gulf of Dew!" Clouds, rain,storms, and humors—does the life of man contain aught but these? and is it not summed up in these four words?