Quotes About Ocean

A little wave is moving up and down and a big wave says to him why it looked so sad? The little wave says sadly what's the point of being happy when we're all just going to crash into the rock? The big wave then tells the little wave to not be so sad about that because it is not just a little wave, but a part of the ocean.

The second wave says, 'No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.' " I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again. "Part of the ocean," he says, "part of the ocean." I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.

The second wave says, 'No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.

But this orange raft and its hidden notebook? They were a jolt to that misery. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the idea that something—even a few pages of something—had endured a tragedy and crossed an ocean to find him. It had survived. And witnessing survival can make us believe in our own.

It takes so much to make you feel big in this world. It only takes an ocean to make you feel tiny.

A deckhand, a haircutter, and a cook. Really useful out here.

that moment, I sensed my insignificance more than at any other moment in my life. It takes so much to make you feel big in this world. It only takes an ocean to make you feel tiny.

And the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth, in your soul And the more we move ahead the more we're stuck in rewind Well I don't mind. I don't mind. How could I mind?

He had seen lakes and rivers, but Connla had never seen an ocean, and its very size was beyond his comprehension.  "Where does it end?" he asked Blathine.  "It does not end. The ocean is everything. All the land is merely an interruption in the sea."  Her words made no sense; such things could not be possible.

I wonder if, in the dark night of the sea, the octopus dreams of me.

y los himnos pluviales que nacen de su boca envolviéndonos sí como a dos nautas enlazados al velamen incierto del amor. (de A Un Muchacho)

The goal of Seasteading is for wealthy people to eventually secede into fully independent nation-states, floating in the open ocean—protected from sea-level rise and fully self-sufficient.

It seems very strange that the ocean is full of things that one can eat as one likes, and on land everything seems to be spoken for," Temeraire said

What of the Athenian last year on whose bosom a committee hung a medal to say to the world here is a champion heavyweight poet? He stood on a two-masted schooner and flung his medal far out on the sea bosom. "And why not? Has anybody ever given the ocean a medal? Who of the poets equals the music of the sea? And where is a symbol of the people unless it is the sea?

El mar lo devuelve todo después de un tiempo, especialmente los recuerdos.

No sabía entonces que el océano del tiempo tarde o temprano nos devuelve los recuerdos que enterramos en él

Cedo ou tarde, o oceano do tempo nos devolve as lembranças que enterramos nele.

Sooner or later the ocean of time brings back the memories we submerge in it.

I felt myself surrounded by millions of abandoned pages, by worlds and souls without an owner sinking in an ocean of darkness, while the world that throbbed outside the library seemed to be losing its memory, day after day, unknowingly, feeling all the wiser the more it forgot.

Nie wiedziaÅ'em wówczas, ?e ocean czasu – chcemy czy nie – zawsze zwraca nam to, co w nim kiedyÅ› pogrzebaliÅ›my.

Damals wusste ich nicht, dass der Ozean der Zeit früher oder später die Erinnerungen anschwemmt, die wir in ihm versenkt haben.

Suddenly, she jumped up and waved frantically toward the boat vanishing in the twilight. Dark thirty? She doubted Cap'n would even remember he had brought them, much less to pick them up. And no one, no one knew they were here on this uninhabited island in the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Cap'n, come back! she cried. Her words were lost in the threatening wind. But he just waved, and she figured he thought she was waving good-bye. And she probably was—forever.

Listen to the sea...it sounds like a coffin being dragged over broken glass.

A few minutes later Bill Tomlin slipped away from the group and followed Ellen down portside. Presently their voices, half-talking, half-laughing, could be heard against the sound of splashing waves. The other couples strolled about the deck, enjoying the mild breezes and stopping to watch the moon's reflection ripple on the water.