The sea has no sense and no pity.[У моря нет ни смысла, ни жалости.]
Knowing that certain nights whose sweetness lingers will keep returning to the earth and sea after we are gone, yes, this helps us die.
We have fed our sea for a thousand years and she calls us, still unfed.
The sea was our main entertainment. When company came, we set them before it on rugs, with thermoses and sandwiches and colored umbrellas, as if the water—blue, green, gray, navy or silver as it might be—were enough to watch.
I grew up with the sea and poverty for me was sumptuous; then I lost the sea and found all luxuries gray and poverty unbearable.
At sea a fellow comes out. Salt water is like wine, in that respect.
