Quotes About Sea

Recuerda que todo hombre sabio teme tres cosas: la tormenta en el mar, una noche sin luna y la ira de un hombre amable.

Todo hombre sabio teme tres cosas: una tormenta en el mar, una noche sin luna y la ira de un hombre apacible.

Aveva un odore semplice, il mare, ma nello stesso tempo così vasto e unico nel suo genere, che Grenouille esitava a suddividerlo in odore di pesce, di sale, di acqua, di alga, di fresco e così via. Preferiva lasciare intatto l'odore del mare, lo custodiva intero nella memoria e lo godeva indiviso. L'odore del mare gli piaceva tanto che avrebbe desiderato una volta averlo puro, non mescolato e in quantità tale da potersene ubriacare.

For several hours we were thrown and battered — till suddenly calm felt — the calmest calm I have ever experienced at sea. God had willed us to enter the eye — you know about it? the still centre of the storm — where we lay at rest — surrounded by hundreds of seabirds, also resting on the water.

For life is the best thing we have in this existence. And if we should desire to believe in something, it should be a beacon within. This beacon being the sun, sea, and sky, our children, our work, our companions and, most simply put, the embodiment of love.

Finally, by the sea, where God is everywhere, I gradually calmed.

A wind picked up and I could feel the sea within it.

Enfim, junto ao mar, onde Deus está em toda parte, lentamente fui me acalmando. Continuei olhando o céu. As nuvens tinham as cores de um Rafael. Uma rosa ferida. Tive a sensação de que ele próprio tinha pintado a nuvem. Você o verá. Você o conhecerá. Você verá a mão dele. Essas palavras me vieram, e eu soube que um dia veria um céu pintado pela mão de Robert.

Winston knew better than to give a heartfelt synopsis of a grainy black-and-white film that had inadvertently touched his heart and caused him to empathize with a loafer-shod French boy, Doinel, the young, unloved Parisian, running toward the sea in the last reel. Winston had wanted to chase behind him, clasp him on the shoulder...

De zee is blauw, het bos is groen

The sea, tasted, drunk away, dreamed away. An hour soul-eclipsed. The next, an autumn light, offered up to a blind feeling which came that way. Others, many, with no place but their own heavy centres: glimpsed and avoided. Foundlings, stars, black, full of language: named after an oath which silence annulled.

A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to sea… . In this way, too, poems are en route… . Toward what? Toward something open, inhabitable, an approachable you, perhaps, an approachable reality.

U izvoru tvojih o?iju more drži svoju rije?. Ja ondje bacam srce koje je boravilo kod ljudi.

was a love affair that produced moments of ecstasy, moments of pain, and sometimes, when he sensed he was being trapped by his emotions, moments of resentment. "No," I said. "The sea is why I'm here, close to

Great Detective's Retired Landlady Does Battle with Sea Monsters with Bare Hands While Surviving Worst Atlantic Disaster Since the Titanic.

I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

On December 8, 1921, when the Leopoldina set sail for Europe, we were on board. Our life together had finally begun. We held on to each other and looked out at the sea. It was impossibly large and full of beauty and danger in equal parts-and we wanted it all.

The post had a fresh coat of white paint with two jaunty black stripes, making it look like a buoy fixed and still in a bright emerald sea. Though

I had never spent so much time by the sea, and hated the way the air thickened with salt and sat on my skin and made me always long for a bath. I was far more comfortable with dust.

Ahead lies the Irish Sea, all that dark, dark water ready to grip and stop my heart.

Dead indeed is the heart from which the balmy air of the sea cannot banish sorrow and grief.

You are now In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. Yet in its depth what treasures!

The secret strength of things Which governs thought, and to the infinite dome Of Heaven is as a column, rests on thee, And what were thou and Earth and Stars and Sea If to the human mind's imaginings Silence and solitude were Vacancy?

And beautiful, and there the sea I found Calm as a cradled child in dreamless slumber bound.