Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Quay. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Quay Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Peter Benchley,Helena Christensen,Joyce Rachelle,Behramji Malabari,Derek Taylor for you to enjoy and share.
Come up fish. Come to Quint.
Harbour Island in the Bahamas is a wonderful little island with beautiful beaches, a great restaurant culture and friendly, welcoming atmosphere.
Don't stay in the harbour and miss the greatness of the sea. Just because everyone else is anchored, doesn't mean you have to be.
London, dirty little pool of life
Well the seaport, all seaports in Britain whether it's Glasgow or Newcastle or ... or Liverpool, any of the seaports, I've got this kind of knock about, beggar and the Lord will provide feeling about it.
Islands are reminders of arrivals and departures.
I'll be glad to get out on the water again, and gladder still to see Divvytown. I knew it was my home port that first time I saw it.'
'The pirate town? Sa save us all. Does someone wait for you, dearie?' Ophelia asked.
Jek laughed aloud. 'They all wait for me. They just don't know it yet.
I pride myself in being an aficionado of the British seaside. Throughout my career, I have visited and worked in many of the famous British resorts, from Great Yarmouth to Largs.
My picture-poems are linguistic margins on visual atolls.
Long have you timidly waded
Holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea,
Rise again, nod to me, shout,
And laughingly dash with your hair.
This man is my boatswain.
Listen, we got two stiffs and a river of red in a villa in Herne Bay ...
I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose.
Bray is where I live; it's a seaside resort. It's a nice place to walk up there and stuff, on the coast. There's crosses along on top of it.
For now I sit on my final island of the present as my radius of memory shrinks; lost already are the islands of work, of old friendships ... Other islands fade as I brood upon them.
To Meath of the pastures,
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford,
Go my cattle and me.
I am part of a team organising an Emma Hamilton exhibition for the National Maritime Museum for 2016, and the amount of planning is a revelation - borrowing from museums and collections all over the world.
Tyneside Ships of Steel, built by Iron Men, old skills now lost
forever, hang your heads... and weep for them.
Harbour Island in the Bahamas is beautiful, with turquoise water and pink sand.
Gluppit the prawling strangles, there!
Pervasive part of the island culture
Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more?
On the island, the recipe for an entertaining evening is drink this, smoke that, snort this, eat that. How do you feel? Well, try this and some of that.
Port Authority Bus Terminal
The Bane
... where coxswain's dirt
and seaman's shirts
brushed bawdily upon her chest ...
You are now
In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow
At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore
Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more.
Yet in its depth what treasures!
I grew up in Newquay, on the Atlantic coast and there developed a love of the sea and boats.
On the Jellicoe road
Swells, Marina? we ocean, depths, Marina? we sky!
I am, and always will be, proud to be a Hackney girl.
I am paddling laps in a demitasse of home-brewed ennui
limerick?" asked
London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.
In Fleet Street, in Fleet Street, the People are so fleetThey barely touch the cobble-stones with their nimble feet!
The Thames is a wretched river after the Mersey and the ships are not like Liverpool ships and the docks are barren of beauty ... it is a beastly hole after Liverpool; for Liverpool is the town of my heart and I would rather sail a mudflat there than command a clipper out of London
Atalanta in Calydon
I always had this notion of a noir novel in Galway. The city is exploding, emigration has reversed, and we are fast becoming a cosmopolitan city.
Pooley hunched closer to his pint. 'A pox on it all,' said he. 'The Swan packed full of these idiots, old Soap flushed away round the proverbial S-bend and Cowboy Night looming up before us with about as much promise as the coming of Ragnorok!
Up the well known creek
A cluster of yachts was anchored at the far side, and a smaller boat with a National Park Service logo on the side was tied at the dock. We slowed, turned, and slid in next to it. I
I grew up in Ditchling. It was an idyllic village at the foot of the South Downs. In those days, the village was full of artists and sculptors.
Irish tory employers hid[e] their sweatshops behind orange flags, and Irish home rule landlords us[e] the green sunburst of Erin to cloak their rack-renting in the festering slums of our Irish towns.
Freeside is Las Vegas and the hanging gardens of Babylon, an orbital Geneva and home to a family inbred and most carefully refined, the industrial clan of Tessier and Ashpool.
You get a canoe later and I'll paddle you
I'm representative of 21st century Irish design, so I promote Irishness all over the world wherever I go.
Manicured grounds of well-hidden mansions. At any other time Doug would have been slowing the car, peering through the trees, on the lookout for interesting old architecture. Because Douglas Llewellyn was an architect, the senior partner
Irish as a Paddy's pig.
I want to reveal in a simple way the usual - and unusual - life of the city; the corporation workman, the busmen, policemen, the civil servants, the theatres, Moore Street and also, what occupies so large a place in Dublin's life, the literary and artistic.
White villas glittered against the olive woods! What quiet harbours, thronged with gallant shipping bound for purple islands of wine and spice, islands set low in languorous waters!
Rememberatorium),
Dublin was an English city, one of the loveliest. The most Irish thing about it was the shifting drab flow of the poor people
Keelhaul the poets in the vestry chairs.
Literary Party: A traffic jam of the lost waiting for the ferry across the Styx.
Tao in the world is like a river flowing home to the sea.
No matter how safe and lovely your harbour is, leave it to see the insecure and the ugly one; only then you can reach the truth!
Sturdy swimmers afloat on water-couch
Beneath the heavy bill their treasured pouch
Fishes pray for them to fly far away
Inland lakes toast to the Pelican's day
What's feeding in Derry? What's feeding on Derry?
You know, I'm a modern day Harry Belafonte; I got the swagger of the island.
Ring a ding dillo del! derry, del, my hearties! If you come soon you'll find breakfast on the table. If you come late you'll get grass and rain-water!
You look good as a Pirate." Erin
"Ahoy, matey," he said, laying her back against the grass. "Me cap'n's ship needs a port." V' Aidan
"Me cap'n's port needs a ship." Erin
I'm great at boats!
Hurley, hurley, round the table,
Eat as muckle as ye're able.
Eat muckle, pooch nane,
Hurley, hurley, Amen.
Hackney at certain epochs has given itself suburban airs and graces, before being slapped down and consigned once more to the dump bin of aborted ambition.
Ireland sober is Ireland stiff.
I'm a big yachting fan.
"Uisce Beatha" is a compounded distilled spirit being drawn on aromatics, and the Irish sort is particularly distinguished for its pleasant and mild flavour.
What airs outblown from ferny dells And clover-bloom and sweet brier smells.
There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.
Pipes filled with brine that spied on the inhabitants of buildings watching, listening, hunting. You might obscure the attention of the Londonmancers, with the complicity of a treacherous borough, with strikebreaking hexes strong enough: but nothing could stay hidden from an inquisitive sea.
I love swimming in rivers, and well remember once jumping in at Chiswick.
Tritons Trident!
Wherever there is a channel for water, there is a road for the canoe.
Carquinez Strait
Bellport. A podium.
Tonight is delicate business," said Drakasha. "Misstepping in Port Prodigal after midnight is like pissing on an angry snake. I need - " "Ahem," said Locke. "Originally, we're from Camorr." "Be on the boat in five minutes," said Drakasha.
I was born in Ballaghadreen, but I grew up in Galway, and when I went to the University College of Galway, I became involved in the drama society there and started directing plays.
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
Come close now,' ordered Fenworth. 'Time for an exit. I think we'll whirl, Kale likes to whirl. Hold hands. Let's stay together, children. I want no one lost.
I notice I may have somehow mixed up two events, my visit with Rita to Briceland on our way to Cantrip, and our passing through Briceland again on our way back to New York, but such suffusions of swimming colors are not to be disdained by the artist in recollection.
Every painting is a voyage into a sacred harbour.
Ulick Norman Owen.
on the outskirts of Johnson
An aged Burgundy runs with a beardless Port. I cherish the fancy that Port speaks sentences of wisdom, Burgundy sings the inspired Ode.
What is your name?" asked Lear.
Caius," said Kent.
And whence do you hail?"
From Bonking, sire."
Well, yes, lad, as do we all," said Lear, "but from what town?
The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kisst.
Hee that is in a Taverne thinkes he is in a vine-garden.
Let's go to Nando's!Nando-- Niall Horan
Colchester, Ash, my captain, staking my body with his cock like a conqueror, like a king.
Prison towers and modern posters for soap and whiskey.
I was brought up in industrial south Lancashire, down the cobbled road from where LS Lowry (1887-1976) lived and painted.
Sailors are like my overies due North
Making knots. Making knots. No word. Making knots. Tick-tock. This is a clock. Do not think of Gale. Do not think of Peeta. Making knots.
A pleasantly situated hotel close to the sea, and chalets by the water's edge where one breakfasted. Clientele well-to-do, and although I count myself no snob I cannot abide paper bags and orange peel. ("Not After Midnight")
the coast, irregular
The Tao is like a well; used but never used up.
A ship in dock, surrounded by quays and the walls of warehouses, has the appearance of a prisoner meditating upon freedom in the sadness of a free spirit put under restraint.
Welcome to the O2. A unique building in Dublin, in that it is actually finished.
To reach a port, we must sail - sail, not tie at anchor - sail, not drift.
The Admiral Fell Inn? It's the only hotel nearby that's a pun; of course you headed there.
for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates on their track. We hear them before they are seen, and it is always the same dreadful song: 'Avast belay, yo ho, heave to, A-pirating we go, And if we're parted by a shot We're sure to meet below!' A