Quotes About Ocean

The rocks on the sand will proudly stand The hour that the ship comes in.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Oh, sister, am I not a brother to you And one deserving of affection? And is our purpose not the same on this earth To love and follow his direction? ... Oh, sister, when I come to knock on your door Don't turn away, you'll create sorrow Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore You may not see me tomorrow

The melting of the ice caps was so severe, the gravitational effect could be felt throughout the planet. The life of the ocean had been harvested at an unsustainable pace and pollution was killing off the coral and other underwater life.

As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.

And where were you?' he asks. 'While you were gone?' 'I was in a house with many rooms. The sea sweeps through the house. Sometimes it swept over me, but always I was saved.

The Waters covered me and for a moment I was surrounded by the strange silence that comes when the Sea sweeps over you and drowns it own sounds.

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.

Being friends with an octopus-whatever that friendship meant to her-has shown me that our world, and the worlds around and within it, is aflame with shades of brilliance we cannot fathom

For more than a year and a half, since meeting Athena, since coming to know Octavia and now Kali, each time I've reached into the tanks where we have brought these creatures into our world, I've longed to enter theirs. At last, in the warm embrace of the sea, breathing underwater, surrounded by the octopus's liquid world, my breath rising in silver bubbles like a song of praise, here I am.

We kill 100 million [sharks] yearly. By 2050 we will have filled the sea with more plastics than fish.

I wanted to meet octopuses who lived in the wild ocean. In the shower, I began to repeat in my head the first words of the Fisherman's Prayer, the words to which John F. Kennedy kept on his desk at the White House: Oh God, Thy sea is so great and my boat is so small....I fervently longed to get out of that boat and enter the Creator's great ocean, if only for an hour at a time, as a breathing, swimming sea creature.

My ears are screaming as Rob gives the thumbs-up sign that it's time to surface. I ascend with him slowly, like a dying soul reluctant to leave its body, and we watch the silver trail of our babbles rising above us like shooting stars.

The affection the aquarists felt for the octopus appeared to be mutual. For the hours that they swam together, though the massive octopus could have easily escaped them, the Dude chose instead to keep his human friends by his side. Only when their tanks ran low on air did the divers reluctantly bid the Dude--the best giant Pacific octopus in the world, wrote one--goodbye.

Mollusk expert Pierre Denys de Montfort's iconic pen-and-wash drawing of 1801 shows a giant octopus rising from the ocean, its arms twisting in great loops all the way to the top of a schooner's three masts.

To dive beneath the surface feels like entering the Earth's vast, dreaming subconscious.

I began to repeat in my head the first words of the Fisherman's Prayer, the words to which John F. Kennedy kept on his desk at the White House: "Oh God, Thy sea is so great and my boat is so small.

Today she would like to be alone in the sea: at ease in the water, letting herself go, without anyone calling her from the shore, without spectacular rescues. Simply in the water, with the violent sea she misses because she needs it more and more. Schedules disappeared during those vacations or were so radically modified that the rhythm they marked was almost her own. Lunch was not at one but at three; dinner not at nine but at eleven.

Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry. --from Withsun, written 14 February 1961

I had removed my patent leather shoes after a while, for they foundered badly in the sand. It pleased me to think they would be perched there on the silver log, pointing out to sea, like a sort of soul-compass, after I was dead.

A second wave collapsed over my feet, lipped with white froth, and the chill gripped my ankles with a mortal ache.

I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clotheshorse with a lot of very green trees or very yellow wheat or very blue ocean rolling away for miles and miles in every direction.

If I lived by the sea I would never be really sad. I get an immense sense of eternity and peace from the ocean. I can lose myself in staring at it hour after hour. --from a letter to Aurelia Plath, written c. July 1951

I didn't call you I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea