Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.

The place trembled with sound. I didn’t need to do anything. They would do it all. But you had to be careful. Drunk as they were they could immediately detect any false gesture, any false word. You could never underestimate an audience. They had paid to get in; they had paid for drinks; they intended to get something and if you didn’t give it to them they’d run you right into the ocean.

Let’s play Titanic, you’ll be the ocean and I’ll go down on you.

Even the ocean of all alcohol can’t intoxicate me better than one kiss with you.

I will love you until the stars go out, and the tides no longer turn.

If rain drops were kisses, I’d send you showers. If hugs were seas, I’d send you oceans. And if love was a person I’d send you me!

O love, I love you better than you know!
I love you as the water loves the sea.
I love you as the twilight loves the dark.

My love for you is deeper than the oceans and higher than the mountains.

As the ocean has no end, so does my love for you.

I know they say there’s a lot of fish in the sea, but you’re my Nemo.

You are the sun in my day, the wind in my sky, the waves in my ocean, and the beat in my heart.

You’re my lobster.

How lucky am I that of all the fish in the sea, I caught you.

You and me go together like salt and sea.

Anchor me to the depths of the ocean that is your heart.

Look at the mountains. Look and the oceans! No one else can change the oceans into mountains or mountains into oceans, because the work of God’s hands is the greatest.

It is not to be wondered that men have worshiped the ocean, for in his depths they have seen mirrored the image of Eternity of Infinity. Here they have seen the symbol of God’s great plan of oneness with His creatures, for the sea is the union of all infinite particles, and it takes the whole to make the one.

If you ever want to see how small you are in the plan of God, just stand at the edge of an ocean.

Stupid ocean!!! Ya want me to kill you? Huh??

I’m holding up the fire
Lighting up the sky
Like a lighthouse on the ocean
Bring you home alright.

A ship on the beach is a lighthouse to the sea.

I am a lighthouse worn by the weather and the waves. I keep my lamp lit to warn the sailors on their way.

Lisa: I’m Carnie Wilson before my gastric bypass surgery.
Kevin Copeland: This one goes with your skin tone.
Lisa: Somebody throw Shamu back in the ocean. Whoo.

You were my lighthouse when I was lost at sea without you, I would never have found me.

Books are lighthouses erected in the great sea of time.

Sleep is like the tide only this time the moon doesn’t bring it in.

Third eye of the sea,
the lonely lighthouse
never sleeps.

And in her ears the little Seashells, the thimble radios tamped tight, and an electronic ocean of sound, of music and talk and music and talk coming in, coming in on the shore of her unsleeping mind. The room was indeed empty. Every night the waves came in and bore her off on their great tides of sound, floating her, wide-eyed, toward morning. There had been no night in the last two years that Mildred had not swum that sea, had not gladly gone down in it for the third time.

What a thing this sleeplessness was!…If sleep, she thought, could be compared to a gentle lake ina dark place, the sleeplessness was a roaring ocean, a raging, wind-buffeted voyage, lit with mad rocket-lights, pursued by wild phantoms from behind, plunging upon fearful rocks ahead, a mad tempest of the past and present and future all in one. Through all this the pale, strenuous mariner must somehow steer a way, until at last the weary dawn, not of sleep, but of resignation to sleeplessness, comes to calm the waters of the mind.

I switched the light out and drew the cover across myself, but I didn’t sleep. Instead I lay on my side watching the sea, rising and falling in strange, hypnotic silence outside the thick, storm-proof panes. And I thought, there is a murderer on this boat. And no one knows but me.

So quiet that house was in the night, so quiet all the other little homes around it were that held the elderly in them and the old alone or still in couples sleeping early, waking, lying awake and thinking about the past. So much past every night in the silence settling over those houses that all looked much the same on a hillside creeping up against the rock and gorse and tipping down to the river where it widened, widened and ended in the sea.

It is at night when sleep like the outgoing sea leaves you dry and cold and the morning light arrives like a small punishment.

The endless ocean was his sole companion , and on some deeply sentimental level, it seemed sufficient. Almost apt. He aligned himself with Thoreau and Tolstoy, he felt like their peers. The kinship with nature devoted humans to a mythical state, a heightened persona beyond the reach of mere mortals. At least that was what he told himself on the lonely nights when insomnia played on his fears and the howling wind pierced through his soul.

Being out there in the ocean, God’s creation, it’s like a gift He has given us to enjoy.

There is no second country for an Englishman, except a ship and the sea.

He gave Marcie a spare to the Jeep – I should park this thing in the ocean, twenty feet under.

The trident. Poseidon, god of the oceans’ weapon of choice. Ancient mermen used to use this weapon in battle to fight against the crustacean armies, and all the shrimps, and jellyfish of the sea…