Moby Dick, Herman Melville

"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can."

Here Melville, talks not just of going to sea but getting away from it all, from home, it's duties and obligations to an adventure in the carefree world of the vagabond. Fortunately the tophat is out of vogue for I might have received a black eye or two for acting on this very same restless melancholy myself. The wanderlust takes hold of all of us at some point or another. For myself it is a cyclical thing. I welcome roots, I grow comfortable and then, without even feeling it come on I am striken with the desire to travel about, to uproot myself, if only momentarily.