Shore Quotes - Page 4

• Me gusta mucho navegar por el lago Leman porque puedo mirar a la orilla y ver a mi mujer haciendo una barbacoa con los niños.

  Ernesto Bertarelli

  Niños, Lagos, Esposa

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• Veo el espectáculo de la mañana desde la cima de la colina frente a mi casa, desde el amanecer hasta la salida del sol, con emociones que podría compartir un ángel. Las largas y esbeltas barras de nubes flotan como peces en el mar de luz carmesí. Desde la tierra, como una orilla, miro hacia ese mar silencioso. Me parece participar de sus rápidas transformaciones; el encanto activo alcanza mi polvo, y me dilato y conspiro con el viento de la mañana.

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Morning, Angel, Dust

  Ralph Waldo Emerson (1854). “The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: Nature addresses and lectures”, p.17

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• Amanece; los corceles en sus establos
  patalean y relinchan cuando los llama el posadero;
  El día vuelve, pero nunca más
  Regresa el viajero a la orilla,
  Y la marea sube, la marea baja.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Time, Morning, Fall

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1899). “the Compelete Poetical Works”

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• I want to know one thing, the way to heaven; how to land safe on that happy shore. God Himself has condescended to teach the way; for this end He came from heaven. He hath written it down in a book. Give me that book! At any price give me the Book of God!

  Juan Wesley

  Bible, Book, Land

  John Wesley (1980). “John Wesley”, p.89, Oxford University Press

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• I trudged around on the muddy river bottom for half an hour, patiently waiting to drown, before giving up and slogging my way back to shore.

  MaryJanice Davidson

  Giving Up, Rivers, Waiting

  MaryJanice Davidson (2004). “Undead and Unwed: A Queen Betsy Novel”, p.24, Penguin

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• La seguridad es relativa. Puedes estar tan cerca de la orilla que prácticamente la sientes bajo tus pies, cuando de repente te encuentras destrozado en las rocas.

  Jodi Picoult

  Rocks, Feet, Safety

  Jodi Picoult (2011). “Sing You Home: A Novel”, p.453, Simon and Schuster

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• The words that reverberate for us at the confines of this long adventure of rebellion are not formulas for optimism, for which we have no possible use in the extremities of our unhappiness, but words of courage and intelligence which, on the shores of the eternal seas, even have the qualities of virtue.

  Albert Camus

  Adventure, Sea, Long

  Albert Camus (2012). “The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt”, p.303, Vintage

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• I could never stay long enough on the shore; the tang of the untainted, fresh, and free sea air was like a cool, quieting thought.

  Helen Keller

  Beach, Ocean, Air

  Helen Keller (2016). “The Story of My Life”, p.32, Om Books International

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• I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Change, Mother, Daughter

  La nube" (1819)

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• My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea.

  Lord Byron

  Ocean, Sea, Boat

  Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.536, Delphi Classics

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• Here I am on the shore of Brittany. Let the cities light up in the evening. My day is done. I am leaving Europe. The sea air will burn my lungs. Lost climates will tan me. I will swim, trample the grass, hung, and smoke especially. I will drink alcohol as strong as boiling metal--just as my dear ancestors did around their fires.

  Arthur Rimbaud

  Strong, Fire, Light

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• The sea complains upon a thousand shores.

  Alexander Smith

  Ocean, Sea, Complaining

  Alexander Smith (1856). “Poems ... Third edition”, p.241

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• This cruel age has deflected me, like a river from this course. Strayed from its familiar shores, my changeling life has flowed into a sister channel. How many spectacles I've missed: the curtain rising without me, and falling too. How many friends I never had the chance to meet.

  Anna Ajmátova

  Fall, Rivers, Age

  Anna Andreevna Akhmatova, Stanley Kunitz, Max Hayward (1997). “Избранные Стихи”, p.129, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Once, when I was younger, I thought I could be someone else. I'd move to Casablanca, open a bar, and I'd meet Ingrid Bergman. Or more realistically - whether actually more realistic or not - I'd tune in on a better life, something more suited to my true self. Toward that end, I had to undergo training. I read The Greening of America, and I saw Easy Rider three times. But like a boat with a twisted rudder, I kept coming back to the same place. I wasn't anywhere. I was myself, waiting on the shore for me to return.

  Haruki Murakami

  Moving, America, Self

  "Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World". Book by Haruki Murakami, September 1991.

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• Take the time to make some sense for what you wanna say, And cast your words away upon the waves. Sail them home with acquiesce on a ship of hope today, And as they land upon the shore, Tell them not to fear no more. I'm not saying right is wrong, It's up to us to make the best of all the things that come our way. Cos' everything that's been has past, The answers in the looking glass. There's four and twenty million doors On life's endless corridor, So say it loud and sing it proud today.

  Noel Gallagher

  Home, Past, Glasses

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• Rather, ten times, die in the surf, heralding the way to a new world, than stand idly on the shore.

  Florence Nightingale

  Nursing, World, Way

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• I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. ... You have been mine before, How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar Your neck turned so, Some veil did fall - I knew it all of yore. Has this been thus before? And shall not thus time's eddying flight Still with our lives our love restore In death's despite, And day and night yield one delight once more

  Dante Gabriel Rossetti

  Sweet, Fall, Night

  'Sudden Light'

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• Tal vez soy demasiado dócil, un mago demasiado doméstico. Pero, ¿cómo se consigue un poco de locura? Todos los días me encuentro con locos por la calle, pero nunca se me había ocurrido preguntarme cómo se vuelven locos. Tal vez debería vagar por páramos solitarios y costas estériles. Ése es siempre un lugar popular para los lunáticos, al menos en las novelas y obras de teatro. Quizá la Inglaterra salvaje me vuelva loco.

  Susanna Clarke

  Solitario, Jugar, Gente

  Susanna Clarke (2009). "Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell", p.707, Bloomsbury Publishing

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• Sometimes the wind along the Pacific shore blows so hard it steals your breath before you can inhale it.

  Timothy Egan

  Blow, Wind, Sometimes

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• Como el agua de un arroyo profundo, el amor siempre es demasiado. No lo conseguimos. Aunque bebamos hasta reventar, no podemos tenerlo todo, ni quererlo todo. En su abundancia sobrevive a nuestra sed. Al atardecer bajamos a la orilla a beber hasta saciarnos, y dormimos, mientras fluye por las regiones de la oscuridad. No nos retiene, salvo que volvamos sedientos a sus ricas aguas. Entramos, dispuestos a morir, en la mancomunidad de su alegría.

  Wendell Berry

  Sueño, Oscuridad, Amor Es

  Wendell Berry (2013). "Un país de matrimonios: Poemas", p.11, Counterpoint Press.

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• I'm a century old, an impossible age, and my brain has no anchor in the present. Instead it drifts, nearly always to the same shore. Today, as most days, it is 1962. The year I discovered love.

  Meg Rosoff

  Years, Anchors, Brain

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• And if these mountains had eyes, they would wake to find two strangers in their fences, standing in admiration as a breathing red pours its tinge upon earth's shore. These mountains, which have seen untold sunrises, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent so that man's weak praise should be given God's attention.

  Donald Miller

  Naturaleza, Ojo, Hombres

  Donald Miller (2005). “Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road”, p.253, Harper Collins

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• Eres la montaña, eres la roca Eres la cuerda y eres la chispa Eres el águila, eres la alondra Eres el mundo y eres notable Eres el océano comiéndose la orilla Eres la calma dentro de la tormenta Eres cada emoción, puedes soportarla Eres el mundo y el mundo es tuyo. ((El mundo como yo lo veo))

  Jason Mraz

  Océano, Rocas, Águilas

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