Quotes About Beach

Ah, yes, the departmental shrink. And in the silence that followed, he knew everyone was waiting for him to groan, but he wasn't a Lethal Weapon wild card, damn it. Yeah. For example, he couldn't dislocate his shoulder, he didn't live on the beach with a dog, and he wasn't rocking a death wish. You're welcome.

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running—that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach by the sigh of the sea out there, with the Ma-Wink fallopian virgin warm stars reflecting on the outer channel fluid belly waters. And if your cans are redhot and you can't hold them in your hands, just use good old railroad gloves, that's all.

Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running -- that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach....

I sat cross-legged in the sand and contemplated my life. Well, there, and what difference did it make? What's going to happen to me up ahead?

I know what it's like listening to Aphex Twin driving down the beach.

I'm from Malibu, California. Once I tell people, they're like, 'Oh, of course you're from Malibu; that makes sense.' I guess I am your typical just-graduated-high-school-in-Malibu type of girl. Our school was just across from Zuma beach, and we all wore Lululemons and bathing suit tops to go to the grocery store - no makeup, no shoes.

I was a typical American boy. I did a lot of outdoor activities, played a lot outside with my friends, loved to go the beach, liked to hike, boating and fishing, and I flew a lot of model airplanes as well.

California is an unbelievable state.

The first dead man on Omaha Beach must be a sailor!

In terms of the fantasy wedding thing, I can kind of cross off the island beach thing. Maybe at sunset or something.

I can still feel that leap of enthusiasm, and real joy, at the prospect of finally getting out to the beach, and running around. But probably the most important thing, to me, aside from just the freedom of it and the power of it, was the kind of creatures that you could see along the beach, that you can't find anywhere else." - Sylvia Earle

At the beach, college girls lay in groups on the sand around buckets of drinks, their bums curved up like fruits. Mine didn't do that.

I looked out over the water, into the night that was coming in on the tide, and I felt nothing at all. The beach looked like something I had seen in an old film, once upon a time; that hotheaded boy felt like a character from some book I had read and given away in childhood. Only, somewhere far inside my spine and deep in the palms of my hands, something hummed; like a sound too low to hear, like a warning, like a cello string when a tuning fork strikes the perfect tone to call it awake.

The Shell The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear. You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.

I still love things that you don't even need to pay for. Going to the beach and being around five of your friends and having a good time means so much more than going out and spending hundreds of dollars.

When he proposed to me, Yash said one of the nicest things ever. He spoke of a vision in which he saw himself, his wife, and a stroller, with a baby, on a scenic beach. And the lady in his vision was me. That sealed the deal for me.

I remember thinking that walking on the beach as a free man is pretty desirable.

Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach.

Cord followed up with, "I like it here, but it's beginning to feel creepy. Does anyone else think it's creepy?" "You're talking to a bunch of guys," Yul said. "No one here is going to validate your feelings." She tossed sand at him.

The sand was hard-packed and solid and wet, speckled all over with cockle shells in colors and patterns of such profusion and variety that they must have given the first Dutchmen the idea to go out into the sea and bring back precious things from afar.

Kathree sat alone on the beach, hugging her knees and watching the woman do what she did and wondering what events in her life had caused her to shift into what she was now, so tall, so lovely, so watchable. She did not have the manner of one who had been born beautiful, which made Kathree suspect that she had come by it through some kind of personal disaster.

He finds a ramp that leads down to the beach and lets gravity draw him towards sea level, gazing to the south and west. The water is pacific and colorless beneath a hazy sky, the horizon line is barely discernable.

Time to get cosmic. There are more stars in the universe than grains of sand on any beach, more stars than seconds have passed since Earth formed, more stars than words and sounds ever uttered by all the humans who ever lived.

A man goes out on the beach and sees that it is covered with starfish that have washed up in the tide. A little boy is walking along, picking them up and throwing them back into the water. "What are you doing, son?" the man asks. "You see how many starfish there are? You'll never make a difference." The boy paused thoughtfully, and picked up another starfish and threw it into the ocean. "It sure made a difference to that one," he said.