The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.
Poetry is a diary kept by a sea creature who lives on land and wishes he could fly.
Poetry is a puppet-show, where riders of skyrockets and divers of sea fathoms gossip about the sixth sense and the fourth dimension.
He doesn’t have super powers or the biggest, baddest gun. The point isn’t how many people you can kill or how you kill them. He is there to fight piracy, greed, and cruelty in all their forms on land and sea
There is nothing like lying flat on your back on the deck, alone except for the helmsman aft at the wheel, silence except for the lapping of the sea against the side of the ship. At that time you can be equal to Ulysses and brother to him.
… the best pilots have need of mariners, besides sails, anchor and other tackle.
Why, I hold fate Clasped in my fist, and could command the course Of time’s eternal motion, hadst thou been One thought more steady than an ebbing sea.
Birds were flying from continent to continent long before we were. They reached the coldest place on Earth, Antarctica, long before we did. They can survive in the hottest of deserts. Some can remain on the wing for years at a time. They can girdle the globe. Now, we have taken over the earth and the sea and the sky, but with skill and care and knowledge, we can ensure that there is still a place on Earth for birds in all their beauty and variety – if we want to… And surely, we should.
It was really cool going to Sea World. We had an amazing time. They were amazing to us. We got to swim with the dolphins, and it was really special.
It is always with excitement that I wake up in the morning wondering what my intuition will toss up to me, like gifts from the sea. I work with it and rely on it. It’s my partner.
Throwing a line out to sea To see if I can catch a dream
Instead of this confusion, we need the unifying force of an official language, English, which is the language of success in America.
Far away in Montana, hidden from view by clustering mountain-peaks, lies an unmapped northwestern corner- the Crown of the Continent. The water from the crusted snowdrift which caps the peak of a lofty mountain there trickles into tiny rills, which hurry along north, south, east and west, and growing to rivers, at last pour their currents into three seas. From this mountain-peak the Pacific and the Arctic oceans and the Gulf of Mexico receive each its tribute. Here is a land of striking scenery.
Look in, look the storm in the eye. Look out, to the sea and the sky. Look around, at the sight and sound. Look in, look out, look around.