Quotes About Sea

I felt like time was a great sea, and I was floating on the back of a turtle, and no sails broke the horizon.

The sun was like a word written between the sea and the sky, a word that was swallowed up by the sea before any man had time to read it.

The naturalists of our own time hold equal faith in the wonders of the sea, but seek therein rather for the links of nature's chain than for apparent exceptions.

The last time the world was three degrees warmer than today-which is what we expect later this century-sea levels were 25m higher. So that is what we can look forward to if we don't act soon.

Why, I hold fate Clasped in my fist, and could command the course Of time's eternal motion, hadst thou been One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.

On the 17th of May, the Delos put out to sea. I was immediately affected with sea-sickness, which, however, lasted but a short time. I remained on deck constantly, forcing myself to exercise.

At night, time becomes a calm sea. It goes on for ever.

The last time I saw something that tall standing so still for so long, it was perched on the edge of a cliff shining a light across the sea.

Yes, the heat lacerated the heart. And alone she resisted it, entire, virgin, the envy of the sea.

People were used to those slow human speeds on both land and sea, to those delays, those waitings on the wind or fair weather, to those expectations of shipwreck, sun, and death. The liners the little white girl knew were among the last mailboats in the world. It was while she was young that the first airlines were started, which were gradually to deprive mankind of journeys across the sea. (The Lover)

Through you I go back to the origin of the sign, to the free writing sketched by wind on the sea and the sand, to the wild writing of the birds. — Marguerite Duras, C'est Tout / No More , transl. Richard Howard (Seven Stories Press, 1998) (via mothwood)

And the girl started up as if to go and kill herself in her turn, throw herself in her turn into the sea, and afterwards she wept because she thought of the man from Cholon and suddenly she wasn't sure she hadn't loved him with a love she hadn't seen because it had lost itself in the affair like water in sand and she rediscovered it only now, through this moment of music flung across the sea.

I showed him the sea. It's a great luxury, being able to see it from the balcony. When cities are bombed there are always ruins and corpses left. But you can drop an atomic bomb in the sea and ten minutes later it's back as it was before. You can't change the shape of water.

Birinin sizi sevebileceÄŸine inan?p inanmad???n? sorars?n?z ona. Hiçbir durumda sevilemeyeceÄŸinizi söyler. Ölüm yüzünden mi? diye sorars?n?z. Evet, der, duygular?n?zdaki bu yavanl?k, bu duraÄŸanl?k yüzünden, denizin siyah olduÄŸu yalan?n? söylemeniz yüzünden.

Não havia nada a fazer aqui, os livros derretiam-se nas mãos. E as histórias caíam em pedaços sob os golpes sombrios e silenciosos dos zangões. Sim, o calor dilacerava o coração. E só lhe resistia inteiro, virgem, o desejo do mar. Sara pousou o livro nos degraus da varanda. Os outros já estavam no mar. Ou, se não estavam, iam mergulhar de um momento para o outro.

Ludi não gosta de pescar, disse ela, mas podíamos ir os dois. Gostava mais de pescar no rio do que no mar, não sei porquê. - Eu também, mas é preciso uma licença para pescar nos rios. Eu também gosto mais dos rios. Talvez porque os rios sejam feitos para as esperas tranquilas, e o mar não.

Love is no destruction, but rather instruction, nourishment and sustenance for those who trust in it, for Love is repletion and the abyss and the fullness of the sea.

Ireland?" "Small wet place across the Irish Sea," Barry offered kindly. "Where they drink a lot?" Lisa said faintly. "And they never stop talking. That's the place.

Where do starfish come from?" asked Sam. "From the sky," answered Stella. "Starfish are shooting stars that fell in love with the sea." "Weren't the stars afraid of drowning?" asked Sam. "No," said Stella. "They all learned how to swim.

the reality we inhabit is itself a celestial event, the business of eons and galaxies, however persistently we mistake its local manifestations for mere dust, mere sea, mere self, mere thought.

It was what accidental deaths did to people, made everybody's sea floor irregular and uneven, causing tidal currents to collide, surge upward, thereby resulting in small yet volatile eddies churning at everybody's surface. (In the more dangerous cases, it created a lasting whirlpool in which the strongest swimmers could drown.)

And now, a heap of roses beside the sea, white rugosa beside the foaming hem of shore: brave, waxen candles… And we talk as if death were a line to be crossed. Look at them, the white roses. Tell me where they end.

The boy with red hair, who loved the picture of the bear, puts on as gruff as a voice as he can and quietly asks the boy holding bird if he can have it. It is as beautiful as the picture of the bear, if not more so. The boy holding the bird looks at him, smelling weakness and need. He turns and hurls the bird as far as he can into the sea. The boy with red hair nods and bites his lip and tries not to cry.

I have to acknowledge that the sea is a cup of death, and the land is a stained altar stone. We the living are survivors huddled on flotsam, living on jetsam. We are escapees. We wake in terror, eat in hunger, sleep with a mouth full of blood.