Quotes About Sea

The pub door swings open when a man enters. A window of moonlit sky and sea illuminates the darkened pub, and a surge of cold ocean air charges its way inside. It's as if Cuchulainn's raging soul had passed through the doorway.

But there is the loneliness. The aloneness. How I startle awake in the dark, panicked, full of dread, floating on the night sea on a tiny raft surrounded by all that vast blackness. I see myself from above. The light from the moon guides me nowhere. I'm connected to nothing and no one, lost

Se scorre un fiume dentro ad ogni cuore, arriveremo al mare prima o poi ," he says, looking down at me. "More Jovanotti," he adds, smiling, as he sees me staring at him in confusion. Jovanotti is Luca's favorite singer; he's quoted songs of his before to me. But I don't know this one. "'If a river runs inside every heart, we will arrive at the sea,'" he translates.

So they went to sea because it was their livelihood, and in all likelihood their fathers' before them;

because they knew the sea better than they knew land;

Many of the men went to sea simply to escape. Some were fleeing jail, hanging, or torture;

they would be immune from arrest, safe for as long as they were at sea.

I watch the Eruptions. Mount Dad, long dormant, now considered armed and dangerous. Mount Saint Mom, oozing lava, spitting flame. Warn the villagers to run into the sea.

I unscrewed the top of my head and rinsed out my brainpan with salt water from the North Sea and so began my next life

writing rage-poems by the sea pen, hands, claws stained with ink until the bottle runs dry and then I write in blood, spit, and fire lantern's light in the mirror scattering the dark

The night air moved up towards the Downs, washing over sea and orchard. I breathed it in, and thought that henceforth, loneliness would smell to me like fermenting apples.

In the great quietness of these winter evenings there is one clock: the sea. Its dim momentum in the mind is the fugue upon which this writing is made. Empty cadences of sea-water licking its own wounds, sulking along the mouths of the delta, boiling upon those deserted beaches– empty, forever empty under the gulls: white scribble on the grey, munched by clouds.

The slither of tyres across the waves of the desert under a sky blue and frost-bound in winter; or in summer a fearful lunar bombardment which turned the sea to phosphorus — bodies shining like tin, crushed in electric bubbles; or walking to the last spit of sand near Montaza, sneaking through the dense green darkness of the King's gardens, past the drowsy sentry, to where the force of the sea was suddenly crippled and the waves hobbled over the sand-bar. Or

The loves and hours of the life of a man, They are swift and sad, being born of the sea.

She's a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

Iris from sea brings wind or mighty rain.

Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.

Implacable I, the implacable Sea; Implacable most when most I smile serene- Pleased, not appeased, by myriad wrecks in me.

Love is lak de sea. It's uh movin' thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it's different with every shore.

Love is like the sea. It's a moving thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from the shore it meets, and it's different with every shore.

Then you must tell 'em dat love ain't somethin' lak uh grindstone dat's de same thing everywhere and do de same thing tuh everything it touch. Love is lak de sea. It's uh movin' thing, but still and all, it takes its shape from de shore it meets, and it's different with every shore.

the megacity that stretched from Newcastle to Wollongong. Ten miles to the south a man-made constellation skimmed rapidly over the sea surface — masthead lights, green starboard light, accommodation and deck lights — the roar of its progress

The sky looked really great when nearly the entire country was blacked out. Of course, now it looked dangerous, too. I wondered if it would ever be just the night sky again, and not a black sea, full of sharks. Anyway

The ancient Egyptians had a superstitious antipathy to the sea; a superstition nearly of the same kind prevails among the Indians; and the Chinese have never excelled in foreign commerce.