Montrose Beach Quotes

the man with one hand turned on an enormous radio and tuned it to a mastermix station where the songs are not sung so much as bleated. Bleated and repeated. ~ David Sedaris

We are young, life is vivacious, life is fun,
let's enjoy it, at the beach with loving sun. ~ Debasish Mridha

As fog moved to the mainland I heard a flock of birds fly over. They sounded like a dress rustling, a dress being unfastened and dropping to the floor. Fog came unpinned like hair. On the beach cliffs, great colonies of datura - jimson weed - with their white trumpet flowers, looked like brass bands. ~ Gretel Ehrlich

Now I'm the father of three young boys, I find myself using GoPro to film them more than anything - trips to the amusement park, the beach, the pool - just chasing them around as they grow. ~ Nick Woodman

The world to-day is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot. In my world of beach and dunes these elemental presences lived and had their being, and under their arch there moved an incomparable pageant of nature and the year. ~ Henry Beston

you can't hide from a hurricane under a beach umbrella ~ Philip Rahv

Life is like a beach chair when you can afford one ~ Joe Budden

Among the many thousands of things that I have never been able to understand, one in particular stands out. That is the question of who was the first person who stood by a pile of sand and said, "You know, I bet if we took some of this and mixed it with a little potash and heated it, we could make a material that would be solid and yet transparent. We could call it glass." Call me obtuse, but you could stand me on a beach till the end of time and never would it occur to me to try to make it into windows. ~ Bill Bryson

You don't know who to believe. Like Abraham Lincoln. He said all men were created equal. He never went to a nude beach. ~ Rodney Dangerfield

The dawn is killing me off, the fog is on the windows, the [ra]coons have robbed the cans, and down in Rio its 8 a.m. and the whores who missed last night are already out on the beach in their fine little bikinis and if I could get my hands on just one of them I would be God's happiest man. But that's not likely tonight, so I'll get some sleep and wake up tomorrow with a fix on the Hell's Angels.
- to Angus Cameron in a letter dated 06/28/1965 ~ Hunter S. Thompson

The captain glared at him. The sergeant put on the poker face that has been handed down from NCO to NCO ever since one protoamphibian told another, lower-ranking protoamphibian to muster a squad of newts and Take That Beach. ~ Terry Pratchett

I would love it if my book was considered chick-lit or a beach read. That would be great. People would buy my book. ~ Emily Gould

Answer Professor Mandell's letter when you get a chance and the patience. Ask him not to send me any more poetry books. I already have enough for 1 year anyway. I am quite sick of it anyway. A man walks along the beach and unfortunately gets hit in the head by a cocoanut. His head unfortunately cracks open in two halves. Then his wife comes along the beach singing a song and sees the 2 halves and recognizes them and cries heart breakingly. That is exactly where I am tired of poetry. Supposing the lady just picks up the 2 halves and shouts into them very angrily "Stop that!" Do not mention this when you answer his letter, however. It is quite controversial and Mrs. Mandell is a poet besides. ~ J.D. Salinger

She grew more and more silent about what really mattered. She curled inside herself like one of those black chimney brushes, the little shellfish you see on the beach, and you touch them, and then go inside and don't come out. ~ Janet Frame

Parenthood doesn't improve one's character, it exposes it. ~ Leslie A. Gordon

There is a lot of stuff I like. I love backpacking. I love going to an island where I can just sit on the beach and read or scuba dive and sail. I do a lot of that. I still go backpacking around Europe in the summers and staying in hostels. I love that. ~ Sam Altman

My work has often been described as "chick lit" and for the most part the term doesn't bother me. I think it simply signals to readers that the book is about women, written for women (although many men enjoy my books), about issues that concern women (relationships, careers, etc.) The only thing that bothers me is when the label is used disparagingly, to imply that all chick lit is, by definition, superficial, beach-read fluff because I believe that this is akin to saying that all women are devoid of substance and the issues that concern us, are fundamentally trivial ones. And I take issue with that. ~ Emily Giffin

Just thought you should know," she said, winking. "Can I tell them to piss off?"
"Oh sure," Jeth said, not nearly as amused by the situation as she was. "Just be polite about it."
Lizzie grinned and said into the comm, "This is the Montrose. The captain says piss off. Politely. ~ Mindee Arnett

I like to cook, walk on the beach, go to concerts and look at fine art. ~ Fran Drescher

They say love dies between two people. That's wrong. It doesn't die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you aren't good enough, worthy enough. It doesn't die; you're the the one that dies. It's like the ocean: if you're no good, if you begin to make a bad smell in it, it just spews you up somewhere to die. You die anyway, but I had rather drown in the ocean than be urped up onto a strip of dead beach and be dried away by the sun into a little foul smear with no name to it, just this was for an epitaph ~ William Faulkner

Stretched to infinity,
the sea appeared as a blue metallic skin,
drawn tight and taut
over the face of the world
and tinged orange at its far edges
by a low-hanging sun,
glowing like a tangerine cut wide open.
As the sea broached the shore,
small waves squeezed out from the depths
and spilled, surged and scoured the beach.
Memories of our love,
holding you in my arms
on that the shifting shore,
made everything feel so right,
so whole,
as if we were always made to be together.
Our love holds fast even now,
despite the long shifting shoreline
of our lives.
(together) ~ Jeffrey A. White

The stone you took away from a beach will long for that beach because it belongs there! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

I try to surf everyday or at least go for a walk on the beach if the waves are flat. The more I travel, the more I appreciate where I live and the ocean. ~ Jon Foreman

I draw myself up next to her and look at her profile, making no effort to disguise my attention, here, where there is only Puck to see me. The evening sun loves her throat and her cheekbones. Her hair the color of cliff grass rises and falls over her face in the breeze. Her expression is less ferocious than usual, less guarded.

I say, "Are you afraid?"

Her eyes are far away on the horizon line, out to the west where the sun has gone but the glow remains. Somewhere out there are my capaill uisce, George Holly's America, every gallon of water that every ship rides on.

Puck doesn't look away from the orange glow at the end of the world. "Tell me what it's like. The race."

What it's like is a battle. A mess of horses and men and blood. The fastest and strongest of what is left from two weeks of preparation on the sand. It's the surf in your face, the deadly magic of November on your skin, the Scorpio drums in the place of your heartbeat. It's speed, if you're lucky. It's life and it's death or it's both and there's nothing like it. Once upon a time, this moment - this last light of evening the day before the race - was the best moment of the year for me. The anticipation of the game to come. But that was when all I had to lose was my life.

"There's no one braver than you on that beach."

Her voice is dismissive. "That doesn't matter."

"It does. I meant what I said at the festival. This island cares no ~ Maggie Stiefvater

On the other side of that big-ass mirror, a video camera was watching us. In about ten seconds, it was going to start spitting static at itself, and everything it saw was going to break up into a fuzzy, gray-white wash, rolling up and down, that wouldn't be admissible as evidence on Judge Judy. Those missing frames would last a little less than a quarter of a minute, consolidate themselves back
into a semblance of reality, and then I would theoretically go walking right back out of here.
Between now and that moment, there stretched an infinite ocean of potential
time. Time enough to walk around the world. Time enough to fall in love, get
married on a white beach under purple stars, write a book of poems about
truest passion, have a few good and bloody screaming matches, get divorced in a court of autumn elves and gypsy moths, then set the ink-stained, tear-streaked pages of your text ablaze. ~ Clinton Boomer

At the beach, life is different. A day moves not from hour to hour but leaps from mood to moment. We go with the currents, plan around the tides, follow the sun. We measure happiness by nothing we can hold, nothing we can catch. Everywhere, life is jumping and elusive and momentously momentary. ~ Sandy Gingras

Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was young. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles. Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful. O yes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the world, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ay, very like a whale. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once ...

The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada. Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden of man's ashes. He coasted them, walking warily. A porterbottle stood up, stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel: isle of dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams of brown steersmen and master mariners. Human ~ James Joyce

PARKER spent two weeks on the white sand beach at Biloxi, and on a white sandy bitch named Belle, ...
Beat that for a PC opening line ... not ~ Richard Stark

Babies don't need a vacation, but I still see them at the beach ... it pisses me off! I'll go over to a little baby and say 'What are you doing here? You haven't worked a day in your life!' ~ Steven Wright

It was very satisfying knowing I could come in not really knowing what I was going to do, and at the end of the session feeling that I'd really done interesting guitar work and knowing that I'd really contributed to the music. ~ Ronnie Montrose

The sandy beach reminded Harold of picnics. And the thought of picnics made him hungry. So he laid out a nice simple picnic lunch.

There was nothing but pie. But there were all nine kinds of pie that Harold liked best.

When Harold finished his picnic there was quite a lot left. He hated to see so much delicious pie go to waste.

So Harold left a very hungry moose and a deserving porcupine to finish it up. ~ Crockett Johnson

Maxi dresses are also my best friend. They take me from my morning coffee, to the beach, to nighttime. ~ Hilary Rhoda

Oh, for God's sake, I thought. Why me? I mean, really. Like my life's not complicated enough. Now I have to play Obi Wan Kenobi to this kid's Anakin Skywalker? It so isn't fair. When was I ever going to get the chance to be a normal teenage girl, to do the things normal teenage girls like to do, like go to parties and hang out at the beach, and um, what else?
Oh, yeah, date. A date, with the boy I actually like, would be nice.
But do I get dates? Oh, no. What do I get instead?
Ghosts. ~ Meg Cabot

To survive, you had to steer your course midstream, where the water was deepest and ran fastest, that you had to paddle fast, as fast as you could to stay there to stay still in the rushing current because the price of failure was to be washed up on the beach or dashed to pieces on the wharves. ~ Melanie McGrath

... his intention was pure. He didn't know why, but he liked a girl and he felt compelled to do something about it. That's how it all starts. And as that drive grows, it's the gateway to real emotion. Emotion that moves mountains and starts wars and makes mix tapes and buys airbrushed lovers' T-shirts at the beach and writes horrible songs with simple guitar chords. But it's the gateway to love and passion and rage and fear and jealousy and envy and self-hatred. ~ Hilary Winston

Yes, Mary Anning, you are different from all the rocks on the beach. ~ Tracy Chevalier

In my district, the ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles handle approximately 44 percent of all of the goods delivered to American shores, yet they are in constant need of revenue for facilities, improvements and upgrades to roads and bridges and rails. ~ Dana Rohrabacher

Get the hell off the Beach in Asbury Park and get out. You're done. It's 4:30 PM. You've maximized your tan. Get off the beach. Get in you cars and get out of those areas. ~ Chris Christie

If not doing VICE, I probably would be selling Cokes on the beach in Vietnam. I like the sea. ~ Shane Smith

I grew up eating street tacos and burritos on the beach, so I like people who can eat and aren't afraid to show it. ~ Emily Ratajkowski

But the only feature of the view that ever changed was the signatures of foam deposited on the beach by the waves. Each breaker, she supposed, was as unique as a human soul. Each made its own runup onto the shore, being the very embodiment of vigor and power at the start, but each slowed, spread thin, faltered, dissolved into a hissing ribbon of grey foam and got buried underneath the next. ~ Neal Stephenson

I felt the stupidity rising in my throat and bit down harder, staring at his collarbone and the small piece of blue sea glass he wore on a leather cord around his neck, rising and falling.
Rising.
Falling.
Seconds? Hours? I didn't know. He'd made the necklace the year before from a triangular piece of glass he'd found during their family vacation to Zanzibar Bay, right behind the California beach house they rented for three weeks every summer. According to Matt, red glass was the rarest, followed by purple, then dark blue. To date he'd found only one red piece, which he'd made into a bracelet for Frankie a few months earlier. She never took it off.
I loved all the colors – dark greens, baby blues, aquas, and whites. Frankie and Matt brought them back for me in mason jars every summer. They lived silently on my bookshelf, like frozen pieces of the ocean I had never seen.
"Come here," he whispered, his hand still stuck in my wild curls, blond hair winding around his fingers.
"I still can't believe you made that," I said, not for the first time. "It's so – cool."
Matt looked down at the glass, his hair falling in front of his eyes.
"Maybe I'll give it to you," he said. "If you're lucky. ~ Sarah Ockler

I grew up in an area of a lot of growth, in Orange County, California, and spent most of my youth on the beach. I had witnessed the degradation of our Back Bay and the increased number of closed beach days over the years. ~ Aaron Peirsol

It didn't take long. In that despondent changeless heat the entire human content of the ship congealed into a massive drunkenness. People moved flabbily about like squid in a tank of tepid smelly water. From that moment on we saw, rising to the surface, the terrifying nature of white men, exasperated, freed from constraint, absolutely unbuttoned, their true nature, same as in the war. That tropical steam bath called forth the instincts as August breeds toads and snakes on the fissured walls of prisons. In the European cold, under gray, puritanical northern skies, we seldom get to see our brothers' festering cruelty except in times of carnage, but when roused by the foul fevers of the tropics, their rottenness rises to the surface. That's when the frantic unbuttoning sets in, when filth triumphs and covers us entirely. It's a biological confession. Once work and cold weather cease to constrain us, once they relax their grip, the white man shows you the same spectacle as a beautiful beach when the tide goes out: the truth, fetid pools, crabs, carrion, and turds. ~ Louis Ferdinand Celine

Being only twelve, Klaus of course had not read all the books in the Baudelaire library, but he had read a great many of them and had retained a lot of the information from his readings. He knew how to tell an alligator from a crocodile. He knew who killed Julius Caesar. And he knew much about the tiny, slimy animals found at Briny Beach, which he was examining now. ~ Lemony Snicket

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty
distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest. ~ Pablo Neruda

I've often fantasized about visiting the Bahamian beach where Columbus first stumbled ashore in 1492. Sadly, no one knows where that beach is. In fact, no one's even sure which island Columbus first encountered (there are three candidates). It's a pity, a disappointment, and a lost revenue source for the Bahamians. ~ Seth Shostak