Sea Quotes - Page 38

• It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.

  Dylan Thomas

  Spring, Night, Black

  Under Milk Wood (1954) p. 1

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• The sea, the sea, the sea. It rolled and rolled and called to me. Come in, it said, come in.

  Sharon Creech

  Said

  Sharon Creech (2008). “The Wanderer”, p.3, Pan Macmillan

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• He did not like the grown-ups who talked down to him, but the ones who went on talking in their usual way, leaving him to leap along in their wake, jumping at meanings, guessing, clutching at known words, and chuckling at complicated jokes as they suddenly dawned. He had the glee of the porpoise then, pouring and leaping through strange seas.

  T. H. White

  Jumping, Talking, Leaving

  T. H. White (2011). “The Once and Future King”, p.39, Penguin

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• The mountains are great stone bells; they clang together like nuns. Who shushed the stars? There are a thousand million galaxies easily seen in the Palomar reflector; collisions between and among them do, of course, occur. But these collisions are very long and silent slides. Billions of stars sift amont each other untouched, too distant even to be moved, heedless as always, hushed. The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out. But God knows I have tried.

  Annie Dillard

  Stars, Long, Together

  Annie Dillard (2016). “Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters”, p.67, Canongate Books

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• A hundred years from now, people will look back on us and laugh. They'll say, 'You know what people used to believe? They believed in photons and electrons. Can you imagine anything so silly?' They'll have a good laugh, because by then there will be newer better fantasies... And meanwhile, you feel the way the boat moves? That's the sea. That's real. You smell the salt in the air? You feel the sunlight on your skin? That's all real. Life is wonderful. It's a gift to be alive, to see the sun and breathe the air. And there isn't really anything else.

  Michael Crichton

  Real, Silly, Moving

  Michael Crichton (1997). “The Lost World”, Knopf

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• The only writers who have any peace are the ones who don't write. And there are some like that. They wallow in a sea of possibilities. To express a thought, you first have to limit it, and that means kill it. Every word I speak robs me of a thousand others, and every line I write means giving up another.

  Stanislaw Lem

  Giving Up, Mean, Writing

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• Only the sea, murmurous behind the dingy checkerboard of houses, told of the unrest, the precariousness, of all things in this world.

  Albert Camus

  House, Unrest, World

  Albert Camus (1960). “The plague: translated from the French”

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• Marina, as of the sea. You stick with Hector Ricardo. I'll take care of you;its in my name

  Pittacus Lore

  Names, Care, Sticks

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• It's called a sea anchor,' [Evanlyn] explained. 'It'll stop us drifting too far.' Alyss was impressed. 'And you said you were pig-ignorant when it came to boats.' 'I don't remember saying that,' Evanlyn replied with a frown. Alyss shrugged. 'Oh? Well, it must have been me.

  John Flanagan

  Pigs, Anchors, Ignorant

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• He is a boy sleeping against the mosque wall, ejaculates wet dreaming into a thousand cunts pink and smooth as sea shells.

  William S. Burroughs

  Dream, Wall, Sleep

  William S. Burroughs (1984). “Naked lunch”, Grove Pr

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• I am not jealous of what came before me. Come with a man on your shoulders, come with a hundred men in your hair, come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet, come like a river full of drowned men which flows down to the wild sea, to the eternal surf, to Time! Bring them all to where I am waiting for you; we shall always be alone, we shall always be you and I alone on earth, to start our life!

  Pablo Neruda

  Jealous, Men, Hair

  Pablo Neruda (1994). “The captain's verses”

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• Every inner touch, every one of its fingerprints on my brain, burned like acid. It shredded the walls of my soul like tissue paper, it clawed its way into my very center, I couldn’t tell anymore where it began and I ended. It poured into me like a river into the sea, mixing, melding, until we were one. One. For better or worse. Until death do us part.

  Rob Thurman

  Wall, Rivers, Soul

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• We all build internal sea walls to keep at bay the sadnesses of life and the often overwhelming forces within our minds. In whatever way we do this—through love, work, family, faith, friends, denial, alcohol, drugs, or medication—we build these walls, stone by stone, over a lifetime. One of the most difficult problems is to construct these barriers of such a height and strength that one has a true harbor, a sanctuary away from crippling turmoil and pain, but yet low enough, and permeable enough, to let in fresh seawater that will fend off the inevitable inclination toward brackishness.

  Kay Redfield Jamison

  Wall, Pain, Sadness

  FaceBook post by Kay Redfield Jamison from May 17, 2014

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• To lose somebody is to lose not only their person but all those modes and manifestations into which their person has flowed outwards; so that in losing a beloved one may find so many things, pictures, poems, melodies, places lost too: Dante, Avignon, a song of Shakespeare's, the Cornish sea.

  Iris Murdoch

  Song, May, Losing

  Iris Murdoch (1976). “A Severed Head”, p.57, Penguin

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• Am I more afraid Of taking a chance and learning I'm somebody I don't know, or of risking new territory, only to find I'm the same old me? There is comfort in the tried and true. Breaking ground might uncover a sinkhole, one impossible to climb out of. And setting sail in uncharted waters might mean capsizing into a sea monster's jaws. Easier to turn my back on these things than to try tjem and fail. And yet, a whisper insists I need to know if they are or aren't integral to me. Status quo is a swamp. And stagnation is slow death.

  Ellen Hopkins

  Mean, Uncharted Waters, Trying

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• Tess," I say. "I'm going to head down to the water.I'll be back in a minute." "You sure you can make it by yourself?" she asks. "I'll be fine." I smile. "If you see me floating unconscious out to sea,though-by all means,come and get me.

  Marie Lu

  Mean, Water, Floating

  Marie Lu (2011). “Legend”, p.121, Penguin

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• I felt as if there were invisible threads connecting us - I felt the invisible strands of her hair still winding around me - and thus as she disappeared completely beyond the sea - I still felt it, felt the pain where my heart was bleeding - because the threads could not be severed.

  Edvard Munch

  Pain, Heart, Hair

  Edvard Munch, Klaus Albrecht Schröder, Antonia Hoerschelmann, Christoph Asendorf, Graphische Sammlung Albertina (2003). “Edvard Munch: theme and variation”

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• And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now revealed itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.

  James Agee

  Stars, Lying, Winter

  James Agee (2008). “A Death in the Family”, p.66, Penguin

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• Once upon a time, a fisherman went out to sea. He caught many fish and threw them all into a large bucket on his boat. The fish were not yet dead, so the man decided to ease their suffering by killing them swiftly. While he worked, the cold air made his eyes water. One of the wounded fish saw this and said to the other: "What a kind heart this fisherman has- see how he cries for us." The other fish replied: "Ignore his tears and watch what he is doing with his hands.

  Randa Abdel-Fattah

  Heart, Eye, Men

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• Tell me", he wanted to say, "everything in the whole world" - for he had the wildest, most absurd, extravagant ideas about poets and poetry - but how to speak to a man who does not see you? who sees ogres, satyrs, perhaps the depth of the sea instead?

  Virginia Woolf

  Men, Ideas, Depth

  Virginia Woolf (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Virginia Woolf (Illustrated)”, p.1145, Delphi Classics

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• He rocked in the swells, floating like the first germ of life adrift on the earth's cooling seas, formless macule of plasm trapped in a vapor drop and all creation yet to come.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Vapor, Firsts, Germs

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• Alone, Alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! And never saint took pity on My soul in agony

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  Agony, Soul, Saint

  'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' (1798) pt. 4

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• His books are kept on freestanding shelves hung at different angles on a sea-green wall. They defy gravity, as good books should.

  David Levithan

  Wall, Book, Different

  David Levithan (2009). “Boy Meets Boy”, p.46, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• The state of our civilization manifests itself both in the non-problems that terrify us beyond all reason - rising sea levels - and in the real problems we pay no heed to [population decline]...In reality, much of the planet will be uninhabited long before it's uninhabitable

  Mark Steyn

  Real, Civilization, Long

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• They sped by a pack of sea lions lounging on the docks, and she swore she saw an old homeless guy sitting among them. From across the water the old man pointed a bony finger at Percy and mouthed something like 'Don't even think about it.' "Did you see that?" Hazel asked. Percy's face was red in the sunset. "Yeah. I've been here before. I...I don't know. I think I was looking for my girlfriend." "Annabeth," Frank said. "You mean, on your way to Camp Jupiter?" Percy frowned. "No. Before that.

  Rick Riordan

  Girlfriend, Sunset, Mean

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