Quotes About Sea

Ó mar salgado, quanto do teu sal são lágrimas de Portugal. (…) Valeu a pena? Tudo vale a pena se a alma não é pequena. Quem quer passar além do Bojador tem que passar além da dor.

I see boats moving on the sea. Their sails, like wings of what I see, Bring me a vague inner desire to be Who I was without knowing what it was. So all recalls my home self, and, because It recalls that, what I am aches in me.

Am s? m? pierd în cea??,ca un str?in de toate,insul? uman? detaÅŸat? de visul m?rii,nav? înc?rcat? inutil cu prea mult? fiin?? ÅŸi prea mult din tot restul.

Deus ao mar o perigo e o abysmo deu, Mas nelle é que espelhou o céu.

I was shipwrecked beneath a stormless sky in a sea shallow enough to stand up in.

I am not a fan of being in the sea. I like being in a boat - sailing.

I had to work on a Marlin boat, like gutting fish, like as the bait boy.

I'm not romantic; I'm very practical. There are lots of fish in the sea; so whoever gets struck with your rod, one is as good as another.

There is one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath.

Beijing's imperial reach extends far and wide, from Taiwan and Xinjiang to the South China Sea and beyond.

When the money gets bigger and the stakes get higher, the sea gets wider, and the sharks in the water grow sharper teeth.

Japan is opposed to any actions that escalate tensions in the South China Sea.

Sure, cricket on a beach on the isle of Jura is different from a Test match in a stadium in Galle, 6000 miles away, despite the sea air.

Now they emerged upon a great prairie, an expanse of rumpled short-grass plains with occasional clumps of trees dimly seen in the distance, like tiny islands in a sea. This was the western border of a scattered belt of forest land, about forty miles in width, which stretched across the country from north to south, from the Arkansas to the Red River. This oddly fashioned landscape was called the Cross Timbers.

Under the tossing ocean the voice of the waters was in my ears—a low, sweet voice, intimate, mysterious. Through singing foam and broad, green, glassy depths, by whispering sandy channels atrail with sea-weed, and on, on, out into the vague, cool sea, I sped, rising to the top, sinking, gliding. Then at last I flung myself out of water, hands raised, and the clamor of the gulls filled my ears.

It is a bad sign," said Lys. "You know the Morbihan proverb: 'When the cormorant turns from the sea, Death laughs in the forest, and wise woodmen build boats.'" "I wish," said I sincerely, "that there were fewer proverbs in Brittany.

He didn't like the earth, much less forests. He didn't like the sea either, or what ordinary mortals call the sea, which is really only the surface of the sea, waves kicked up by the wind that have gradually become the metaphor for defeat and madness.

so I could say we had our first real conversation in the sea, and the feeling I had then, the conviction that I wouldn't make it back to shore, the intimation of death by drowning under a matte blue sky, a sky that looked like a lung in a tub of blue paint, persisted throughout all of our subsequent conversations.

Silent," the carved wizardwood on his wrist breathed. "Silent as a blinded ship, floating hull-up in the sea. Silent as a scream underwater.

I stood for a time, overlooking the calm sea. Under the bright morning sun, it looked like hammered blue metal. A very light breeze came off it and stirred my hair. I felt as if someone had spoken words aloud to me and I echoed them. "Time for a change." p. 103

And yet it was not Buckkeep that came to my mind, but a meadow overlooking the sea, and a girl in bright red skirts who beckoned me. A time, rather than a place. No road led there anymore.

I have been in howling storms in which a shout is reduced to a whisper, moved across the sea's featureless face in a gray fog that does not yield to human eyes.

She touched her fingertip to his wet face and brought away a tear. Amazed, he did the same. He tasted this river his own eyes had rained. "It tastes of salt!" he exclaimed. "It tastes like the sea!" "Mine too!" she laughed through her own tears, and he touched and tasted hers as well. "It's as if humans kept a sign of the mother sea in ourselves, a secret token of grief or gladness.

People loved the salmon the way fire loves grass and the blaze loves the darkness of the sea.