Quotes About Sea

Then he heard the hum. Vibrating in consonance with one of the tones of the ocean's churning, it slid in and out of perceptibility in the way that the landscape disappeared in the mist. But by stilling his breath and, to some degree, his jumping pulse, Jonathan was able to pick it out, the low continuo in the cantata of sea and wind.

How tired she must be, I thought, after her rich, full life—a life lived between worlds. She had known the sea's wild embrace; she had mastered the art of camouflage; she had learned the taste of our skin and the shapes of our faces; she had instinctively remembered how her ancestors wove eggs into chains. She had served as an ambassador for her kind to tens of thousands of aquarium visitors. What an odyssey she had lived.

Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it. --from Elm, written 19 April 1962

Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness? --from Elm, written 19 April 1962

I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. --from The Moon and the Yew Tree, written 22 October 1961

I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own. I pick it up, exile that I am, like the purple 'lucky stones' I used to collect with a white ring all the way round, or the shell of a blue mussel with its rainbowy angel's fingernail interior; and in one wash of memory the colors deepen and gleam, the early world draws breath.

I am helpless as the sea at the end of her string. I am restless. Restless and useless. I, too, create corpses. --from Three Women, written March 1962

The great bronze gate began to crack, The sea broke in at every crack, Pellmell, blueblack. --from The Bull of Bendylaw, written 1959

Parecia haver fumaça saindo dos meus nervos, como aquela que saía das churrasqueiras e da estrada. Toda a paisagem — praia, encosta, mar e pedras — tremia diante dos meus olhos como a cortina de um palco.

And now I Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas. The child's cry Melts in the wall. And I Am the arrow, That dew that flies Suicidal, at one with the drive Into the red Eye, the cauldron of morning. --from Ariel, written 27 October 1962

Tireless, tied, as a moon-bound sea Moves --from Hardcastle Crags, written 1957

I want to be where no possessions remind me of the past and by the sea, which is for me the great healer.

Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow.

The future is a grey seagull Tattling in its cat-voice of departure. Age and terror, like nurses, attend her, And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold, Crawls up out of the sea. --from A Life, written 18 November 1960

The river is within us, the sea is all about us;

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. I have seen them riding seaward on the waves Combing the white hair of the waves blown back When the wind blows the water white and black. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. T.S. Eliot The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock

At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea

Dawn points, and another day Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and slides. I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

A current under sea Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool.

He has about him still a kind of terrible beauty, as dangerously beguiling as the grandeur of a storm rushing across the sea.

When you arrive at the sea, you Do not talk of the tributary. Hakim Sanai F

He met Roilant's gaze with two eyes more clear than the clearest winter sea, and rather colder.

And when the sea swallowed up the shore and the waves heaved under the ship and the blue horizon encircled us, I immediately felt an overwhelming intimacy with the sea. I knew this green, infinite giant, as though it were roving back and forth within my ribs. The whole of the journey I savored that feeling of being nowhere, alone, before and behind me either eternity or nothingness.