Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Seaward. 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 Seaward Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Donna Leon,Alexander Smith,James Joyce,William Falconer,Homer for you to enjoy and share.
South.
'But no name?,
'No, Guido. But I'll keep
The pleased sea on a white-breasted shore
A shore that wears on her alluring brows Rare shells, far brought, the love-gifts of the sea, That blushed a tell-tale.
Into the wikeawades warld from sleep we are passing.
Hence a ship is said to head the sea, when her course is opposed to the setting or direction of the surges.
To-morrow we embark upon the boundless sea.
Wisedome hath one foot on Land, and another on Sea.
The golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind
This is the seashore. Neither land nor sea. It's a place that does not exist.
I would not creep along the coast but steer
Out in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars.
Behold a fire from the opposite shore.
I'm one-hundred-fifty miles off Cape Horn, both autopilots are broken, and my boat is drifting toward one of the nastiest chunks of ocean on the face of the earth.
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
One ship drives east and other drives west by the same winds that blow. It's the set of the sails and not the gales that determines the way they go.
Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.
The sea is not a bargain basement.
Unfathomable mind: now beacon, now sea.
Eastward I go only by force; but westward I go free.
Always the edge of the sea remains an elusive and indefinable boundary. The shore has a dual nature, changing with the swing of the tides, belonging now to the land, now to the sea.
Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more?
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea.
Across the sea and up the stair
The Wild Poppy's everywhere.
Though southmen search until they're blind
They know not what they seek to find.
Northern San Diego. The white stucco walls rose, interrupted by huge windows. The whole structure nearly floated off the pavement, sleek, modern, and somehow light, almost delicate. The salt-spiced wind blowing from the coast less than a mile away only strengthened the illusion. He'd
The sea-shore is a sort of neutral ground, a most advantageous point from which to contemplate the world ... There is naked Nature, inhumanly sincere, wasting no thought on man, nibbling at the cliffy shore where gulls wheel amid the spray.
There's only one direction you can coast.
Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow.
I heard word
Of bellied sailcloth,
Creak of oars,
And gold in Eastland.
Then I smelled
A smell remembered:
Salt of spray
And black-pitched boat's keel.
aboard ship, and then hard tack, salt-horse,
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoever I go.
A wild dedication of yourselves
To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
With no other choices open to us, we'd turned our gaze seaward. The oceans were our America: they reached farther than any prairie, untamed as on the first day of creation. Nobody owned them.
If you have decided to sail to the sea with great courage and determination, even the storm on the horizon will step aside!
Down Time's quaint stream
Without an oar
We are enforced to sail
Our Port a secret
Our Perchance a Gale
What Skipper would
Incur the Risk
What Buccaneer would ride
Without a surety from the Wind
Or schedule of the Tide
Him to sea. The board, in imitation of so wise and salutary
The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.
Up the well known creek
East or West, Home is Best
North or South, Hand to Mouth
Lillian's recurrent dream of a ship that could not reach the water, that sailed laboriously, pushed by her with great effort, through city streets, had determined her course toward the sea, as if she would give this ship, once and for all, its proper sea bed.
In order to get to the other side of the shore, you have to lose sight of this one!
Life on the blue part of the globe for eight years had suited me - the wild open spaces, the bliss of buoyancy, the volatile, soul-powered wind. Sailing had struck a nerve both primal and poetic. On and near the ocean life made sense, It made every sense work.
Sail Forth- Steer for the deep waters only. Reckless O soul, exploring. I with thee and thou with me. For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared go. And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.
Three fishers went sailing away to the west,/ Away to the west as the sun went down.
I sat with my toes buried in the warm yellow sand staring out towards the back door of The East. Pacific Ocean Blue was playing in the background and it had left me in a state of Bohemia as the waves crashed ashore; roaring as loud as lions.
To reach a port we must sail, sometimes with the wind, and sometimes against it. But we must not drift or lie at anchor.
I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
station on Cape Cod looks close to where you are. It's in a place called Wellfleet.
Where sky and water meet,
Where the waves grow sweet,
Doubt not, Reepicheep,
To find all you seek, There is the utter East.
Sailors on a becalmed sea, we sense the stirring of a breeze.
What lies north of the North Pole?
And I say north is where I want it to be!
A single glance at the map will make the reader acquainted with the position of the eastern coast of the island of Great Britain, as connected with the shores of the opposite continent.
As I imagined, the ship proves to be in a current; if that appellation can properly be given to a tide, which, howling and shrieking by the white ice, thunders on to the southward with a velocity like the headlong dashing of a cataract.
On the other hand, if there's an underlying core of poetry that I go to, I go to the sea. I've lived on the sea all my life. I live on the sea in Cape Breton.
No wind blows in favor of a ship without direction.
Between dock and deck.
Lo, the unbounded sea, On its breast a ship starting, spreading all sails, carrying even her moonsails. The pennant is flying aloft as she speeds she speeds so stately - below emulous waves press forward, They surround the ship with shining curving motions and foam. I
Peter Geye has rendered the Minnesota north shore in all its stark, dangerous beauty, and it is the perfect backdrop for this deeply moving story of conflict and forgiveness. Safe from the Sea is a remarkable debut.
Straightway like a bell
Came low and clear
The slow, sad murmur of the distant seas
I've never seen the point of the sea, except where it meets the land. The shore has a point. The sea has none.
I must never go far from the sea again.
See the Sea, the cross it!
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land.
Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. There it is before you, smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, "Come and find out".
If one does not know to which port one is sailing, no wind is favorable.
The other side of the globe is but the home of our correspondent. Our voyaging is only great-circle sailing.
We'll go where the air is pure, where all sounds are soothing, where, no matter how proud one may be, one feels humble and finds oneself small- in short, we'll go to the sea. I love the sea as one loves a mistress and I long for her when I haven't seen her for some time
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune.
Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! what shall men say of thee, Before whose feet the worlds divide?
When the shore is won at last, Who will count the billow past?
It is the sea pursues a habit of shores.
Nothing goes to windward like a 747.
The greatest rivers always find their way to the ocean. Like a ship reaching out to its motherland.
Forward, always forward, everywhere forward.
This Boston voice squeaking out its song. The yellow light goes out the window on the stubs of windy grass and black rocks. And down the wet steps by gorse stumps and rusty heather to the high water mark and diving pool. Where the seaweeds rise and fall at night in Balscaddoon Bay.
Bearings
You are my dear compass,
who knows no way but true,
so when I'm lost and drifting,
I find myself in you.
Yet when I ask you, fearful,
if I should set you free,
imagine my surprise to hear
you take your north from me.
ship needs a big sea.
The sea is as near as we come to another world.
I vanish westward
into smoke.
The sea is my business.
In what direction did lost men veer?
Swells, Marina? we ocean, depths, Marina? we sky!
At sea, I feel comfortable and I come to rest.
If it's easter than east and wester than west, it must be north.
A life on the ocean wave! A home on the rolling deep, Where the scattered waters rave, And the winds their revels keep!
toward the Mount.4
They Sailed Away In A Silver Cup Upon A Grassy Sea
Point north and vok voort.
Far out of sight forever stands the sea,
Bounding the land with pale tranquillity.
To the west, the Pacific Ocean, which revulses me, for its vastness cannot be fitted into any box.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.
How early the American cause turned to the sea.
She was a wind on the ocean. She moved men, but the helm determined the port.
The sea is endless when you are in a rowboat.
If you don't know what port you are sailing to, no wind is favourable.
To reach a port we must set sail
The wind's in the east ... I am always conscious of an uncomfortable sensation now and then when the wind is blowing in the east.
A Vessel out at Sea is like a Woman, with out a Navigator it has no sense of Direction. A Navigator with out a Vessel has no Sense of Purpose.
Young sailors once stood under a square sail, gazing wonderingly across the water to where a strange shore rose about the sea - a New World.
The Solent was one the worse stretches of sea in England; the current and tides were atrocious, but it was summer and this time the currents and tides were predictable. However, I did not know this; I picked a spot that I could see from the phone, where I would swim from.
The sea refuses no river