The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.
To me, the sea is like a person - like a child that I've known a long time. It sounds crazy, I know, but when I swim in the sea I talk to it. I never feel alone when I'm out there.
Praise the sea; on shore remain.
Every time we walk along a beach some ancient urge disturbs us so that we find ourselves shedding shoes and garments or scavenging among seaweed and whitened timbers like the homesick refugees of a long war.
The ocean is a place of skin, rich outer membranes hiding thick juicy insides, laden with the soup of being.
We set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like nuclear science and technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if the United States occupies a position of preeminence can we help decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war.
There is nothing so desperately monotonous as the sea, and I no longer wonder at the cruelty of pirates.
The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.
The sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the terrestrial globe. Its breath is pure and healthy. It is an immense desert, where man is never lonely, for he feels life stirring on all sides.
It is not the ship so much as the skillful sailing that assures the prosperous voyage.
God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
A small craft in an ocean is, or should be, a benevolent dictatorship.
People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.
Smell the sea and feel the sky.
Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.
I hate to be near the sea, and to hear it roaring and raging like a wild beast in its den. It puts me in mind of the everlasting efforts of the human mind, struggling to be free, and ending just where it began.
The tradition of freedom of the high seas has its roots in an era when there were too few people to seriously violate the oceans - but in hindsight that era ended some 150 years ago.
The sea is as near as we come to another world.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.
We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.
There's nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater,you realize that you've been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent.
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
A lot of people attack the sea, I make love to it.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
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