Here we go mother on the shipless ocean.Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.

Tell her thisAnd more,— That the king of the seasWeeps too, old, helpless man.The bustling fatesHeap his hands with corpsesUntil he stands like a childWith surplus of toys.

I thought of you and how you love this beauty,And walking up the long beach all aloneI heard the waves breaking in measured thunderAs you and I once heard their monotone.Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond meThe cold and sparkling silver of the sea --We two will pass through death and ages lengthenBefore you hear that sound again with me.

I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.

In high seas or in low seas,I'm gonna be your friend...I'm gonna be your friend.In high tide or in low tide,I'll be by your side...I'll be by your side.

I was always an unusual girl.My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean.

You cannot control the ocean, but you can guide the rivers that feed it.

Why ships won't use roads, is why cars won't travel on oceans. When the position is wrong, the leader won't be right.

No dirt can touch me, like an ocean, everything that comes to me becomes clean.

Explore the deep ocean.

Nature is well-spring of life.

Ocean people are very different from land people. The ocean never stops saying and asking into ears, which don't sleep like eyes.

Geniuses are like ocean liners: they should never meet.

Neither earth nor ocean produces a creature as savage and monstrous as woman.

The ocean doesn't care about you. It makes your boat feel tiny. The oceans are great promoters of religion, or at least of humility-but not in everyone.

Some of us, regarding the ocean with understanding and affection, have seen it looking old, as if the immemorial ages had been stirred up from the undisturbed bottom of ooze. For it is a gale of wind that makes the sea look old.

The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.

We mortals cross the ocean of this world Each in his average cabin of a life; The bests not big, the worst yields elbowroom.

The progress of rivers to the ocean is not so rapid as that of man to error.

You cannot speak of ocean to a well-frog,-the creature of a narrower sphere. You cannot speak of ice to a summer insect,-the creature of a season.