Quotes on Sea

Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn

Govern a great nation as you would cook a small fish. Do not overdo it.

The longest wave is quickly lost in the sea.

Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.

Sweet it is, when on the high seas the winds are lashing the waters, to gaze from the land on another's struggles.

We only seem to learn from Life that Life doesn't matter so much as it seemed to do - it's not so burningly important, after all, what happens. We crawl, like blinking sea-creatures, out of the Ocean onto a spur of rock, we creep over the promontory bewildered and dazzled and hurting ourselves, then we drop in the ocean on the other side: and the little transit doesn't matter so much.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea. But for now we are young; let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.

The juvenile sea squirt wanders through the sea searching for a suitable rock or hunk of coral to cling to and make its home for life. For this task, it has a rudimentary nervous system. When it finds its spot and takes root, it doesn't need its brain anymore so it eats it!

As soon as we put something into words, we devalue it in a strange way. We think we have plunged into the depths of the abyss, and when we return to the surface the drop of water on our pale fingertips no longer resembles the sea from which it comes. We delude ourselves that we have discovered a wonderful treasure trove, and when we return to the light of day we find that we have brought back only false stones and shards of glass; and yet the treasure goes on glimmering in the dark, unaltered.

As thou these ashes, little brook, wilt bear _x000D_ Into the Avon, Avon to the tide _x000D_ Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, _x000D_ Into main ocean they, this deed accursed _x000D_ An emblem yields to friends and enemies _x000D_ How the bold teacher's doctrine, sanctified _x000D_ By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.

In the past we have had a light which flickered, in the present we have a light which flames, and in the future there will be a light which shines over all the land and sea.

To-morrow we embark upon the boundless sea.

THE POET A moody child and wildly wise Pursued the game with joyful eyes, Which chose, like meteors, their way, And rived the dark with private ray: They overleapt the horizon's edge, Searched with Apollo's privilege; Through man, and woman, and sea, and star, Saw the dance of nature forward far; Through worlds, and races, and terms, and times, Saw musical order, and pairing rhymes. Olympian bards who sung Divine ideas below, Which always find us young, And always keep us so.

Just as at sea those who are carried away from the direction of the harbor bring themselves back on course by a clear sign, on seeing a tall beacon light or some mountain peak coming into view, so Scripture may guide those adrift on the sea of the life back into the harbor of the divine will.

Rivers and the inhabitants of the watery element were made for wise men to contemplate, and fools to pass by without consideration.

Don't sit and wait. Get out there, feel life. Touch the sun, and immerse in the sea.

It is the job of artists to open doors and invite in prophesies, the unknown, the unfamiliar; it’s where their work comes from, although its arrival signals the beginning of the long disciplined process of making it their own. Scientists too, as J. Robert Oppenheimer once remarked, ‘live always at the ‘edge of mystery’­—the boundary of the unknown.’ But they transform the unknown into the known, haul it in like fishermen; artists get you out into that dark sea.

You never enjoy the world aright, till the Sea itself flowers in your veins,_x000D_ till you are clothed with the heavens, and crowned with the stars: and_x000D_ perceive yourself to be the sole heir of the whole world, and more than_x000D_ so, because men and women are in it who are every one sole heirs as well_x000D_ as you. Till you can sing and rejoice and delight, as misers do in gold, and_x000D_ kings in scepters, you never enjoy the world.

How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.

As the pen rises from the page between words, so the walker's feet rise and fall between paces, and as the deer continues to run as it bounds from the earth and the dolphin continues to swim even as it leaps again and again from the sea, so writing and wayfaring are continuous activities, a running stitch, a persistence of the same seam or stream.