The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
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It blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year; The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier. The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro, A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane. Autumn leaves and rain, The passion of the gale.
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And the waves sing because they are moving. And the waves sing above a cemetery of waters.
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In one drop of water are found all the secrets of all the oceans.
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The ocean, whose tides respond, like women's menses, to the pull of the moon, the ocean which corresponds to the amniotic fluid in which human life begins, the ocean on whose surface vessels (personified as female) can ride but in whose depth sailors meet their death and monsters conceal themselves... it is unstable and threatening as the earth is not; it spawns new life daily, yet swallows up lives; it is changeable like the moon, unregulated, yet indestructible and eternal.
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The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
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I lay on the bowsprit, with the water foaming into spume under me, the masts with every sail white in the moonlight towering above me. I became drunk with the beauty and singing rhythm of it, and for a moment lost myself- actually lost my life. I was set free... dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm and the high dim-starred sky... I belonged within a unity and joy to life itself.
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Many, many steeples would have to be stacked one on top of another to reach from the bottom to the surface of the sea.
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Someday, this beach might wash away... the oceans may dry, the sun could dim, but on that day I'll still be loving you.
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There is no drop of water in the ocean, not even in the deepest parts of the abyss, that does not know and respond to the mysterious forces that create the tide.
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The ocean is a wilderness reaching round the globe, wilder than a Bengal jungle, and fuller of monsters, washing the very wharves of our cities and the gardens of our sea-side residences.
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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
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The ocean moans over dead men's bones.
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents,...
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We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.
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We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and the oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills we shall never surrender.
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The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
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Our meat-centered diet and the large-scale animal agriculture that supports it, is devastating all the life support systems upon which we depend - the topsoil, the forests, the rivers, the ground water, the air and the oceans. Evolving our diet away from the current animal-based diet toward a plant-based diet is arguably the single most effective action we can take as individuals and as a society to improve our health and to stabilize our endangered eco-system.
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The sea -- this truth must be confessed -- has no generosity. No display of manly qualities -- courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness -- has ever been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power.
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And the shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone. The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead.
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Three things have been difficult to tame: the oceans, fools and women. We may soon be able to tame the oceans; fools and women will take a little longer.
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This is the moment when we must come together to save this planet. Let us resolve that we will not leave our children a world where the oceans rise and famine spreads and terrible storms devastate our lands.
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Fifteen men on the Dead Man's Chest
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The greatest obstacle to discovering the shape of the earth, the continents, and the oceans was not ignorance but the illusion of knowledge.
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As usual I finish the day before the sea, sumptuous this evening beneath the moon, which writes Arab symbols with phosphorescent streaks on the slow swells. There is no end to the sky and the waters. How well they accompany sadness!
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The only cure for seasickness is to sit on the shady side of a church in the country.
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We cannot discover new oceans until we have the courage to lose sight of the shore.
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A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man, who has no gills.
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Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
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