Seafarers go to sleep in the evening not knowing whether they will find themselves at the bottom of the sea the next morning.

The sea yields action to the body, meditation to the mind, the world to the world, all parts thereof to each part, by this art of arts—navigation.

Seamen are the nearest to death and the furthest from God.

Take back your golden fiddles, and we’ll beat to open sea.

The life of a sailor is very unhealthy.

But look, our seas are what we make of them, full of fish or not, opaque or transparent, red or black, high or smooth, narrow or bankless—and we are ourselves sea, sand, coral, seaweed, beaches, tides, swimmers, children, waves.

The legislator is like the navigator of a ship on the high seas. He can steer the vessel on which he sails, but he cannot alter its construction, raise the wind, or stop the waves from swelling beneath his feet.

I must be a mermaid, Rango. I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living.

Tomorrow we take to the mighty sea.

Ocean. A body of water occupying about two-thirds of a world made for man—who has no gills.

I’ve been bathing in the poem / Of star-infused and milky sea / Devouring the azure greens.

Be not the slave of your own past. Plunge into the sublime seas, dive deep, and swim far, so shall you come back with self-respect, with new power, with an advanced experience that shall explain and overlook the old.

Alone, alone, all, all alone, / Alone on a wide, wide sea!