The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
A hundred struggle and drown in the breakers. One discovers the new world. But rather, ten times rather, die in the surf, heralding the way to that new world, than stand idly on the shore.
Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.
And soon, too soon, we part with pain, To sail o'er silent seas again.
The sea is my business.
I've always dreaded the sea - in fact, I get terribly seasick.
I love the sea.
For all that has been said of the love that certain natures (on shore) have professed for it, for all the celebrations it has been the object of in prose and song, the sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.
The bottom of the sea is cruel.
Sweet it is, when on the high seas the winds are lashing the waters, to gaze from the land on another's struggles.
Praise the sea, on shore remain.