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Blue Sea Quotes

MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me! Emily Dickinson
But the past is passed; why moralize upon it? Forget it. See, yon bright son has forgotten it all, and the blue sea, and the blue sky; these have turned over new leaves. Because they have no memory . . . because they are not human. Herman Melville
I put a gentle hand to my chest as I surveyed the situation. The turquoise blue swimming pool some distance behind the lawn was no longer behind that lawn, but within my thorax, and my organs swam in it like excrements in the blue sea water in Nice. Vladimir Nabokov
He thought of the Riviera, as it was then before it had all been built up, with the lovely stretches of blue sea and the sand beaches and the stretches of pine woods and the mountains of the Esterel going out into the sea. He remembered it as it was when he and Zelda had first found it before people went there for the summer. Ernest Hemingway
The edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far, away along blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist. Joseph Conrad
A certain man once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That’s what I like about coincidence. Vladimir Nabokov
This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. F. Scott Fitzgerald
It is moonlight. Alone in the silence. I ascend my stairs once more, While waves remote in pale blue starlight. Crash on a white sand shore. It is moonlight. The garden is silent. I stand in my room alone. Across my wall, from the far-off moon, A rain of fire is thrown. There are houses hanging above the stars, And stars hung under the sea, And a wind from the long blue vault of time. Waves my curtains for me. I wait in the dark once more, swung between space and space: Before the mirror I... Conrad Aiken
This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. From the western half of the sky the sun was shying little golden disks at the sea--if you gazed intently enough you could see them skip from wave tip to wave tip until they joined a broad collar of golden coin that was collecting half a mile out and would eventually be a dazzling sunset. F. Scott Fitzgerald
This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea. These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine."O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? Was not the body dear to you?" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue. Sara Teasdale
The Brain - is wider than the Sky -For - put them side by side -The one the other will contain. With ease - and You - beside -The Brain is deeper than the sea -For- hold them - Blue to Blue -The one the other will absorb -As Sponges - Buckets - do -The Brain is just the weight of God -For - Heft them - Pound for Pound -And they will differ - if they do -As Syllable from Sound. Emily Dickinson
Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying, everything is absorbed through weather and the sea, and the moon swam back, its rays all silvered, and time and again the darkness would be broken by the crash of a wave, and every day on the balcony of the sea, wings open, fire is born, and everything is blue again like morning. Pablo Neruda
The tide goes out imperceptibly. The boulders show and seem to rise up and the ocean recedes leaving little pools, leaving wet weed and moss and sponge, iridescence and brown and blue and China red. On the bottoms lie the incredible refuse of the sea, shells broken and chipped and bits of skeleton, claws, the whole sea bottom a fantastic cemetery on which the living scamper and scramble. John Steinbeck
The little queen all golden. Flew hissing at the sea. To stop each wave. Her clutch to save. She ventured bravely. As she attacked the sea in rage. A holderman came nigh. Along the sand. Fishnet in hand. And saw the queen midsky. He stared at her in wonder. For often he'd been told. That such as she. Could never be. Who hovered there, bright gold. He saw her plight and quickly. He looked up the cliff he faced. And saw a cave. Above the wave. In which her eggs he placed. The little queen all... Anne McCaffrey
It tastes good, garlic and salt in it, with the half-sweet white wine of Orvieto on scanty grass under great trees where the ramparts cuddle Lucca. It sounds right, spoken on the ridge between marine olives and hillside blue figs, under the breeze fresh with pollen of Apennine sage. It feels soft, weed thick in the cave and the smooth wet riddance of Antonietta’s bathing suit, mouth ajar for submarine Amalfitan kisses. It looks well on the page, but never well enough. Something is... Basil Bunting

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