Washed Ashore Quotes

Eh? How 'bout that?" Bill nudged her. "Did I promise to show you love or did I promise to show you love?"
"Sure,they seem like they're in love." Luce shrugged. "But-"
"But what?Do you have any idea how painful that is? Look at that guy. He makes getting inked look like being caressed by a soft breeze."
Luce squirmed on the branch. "Is that the lesson here? Pain equals love?"
"You tell me," Bill said. "It may surprise you to hear this,but the ladies aren't exactly banging down Bill's door."
"I mean,if I tattooed Daniel's same on my body would that mean I loved him more than I already do?"
"It's a symbol,Luce." Bill let out a raspy sigh. "You're being too literal. Think about it this way: Daniel is the first good-looking boy LuLu has ever seen. Until he washed ashore a few months ago, this girl's whole world was her father and a few fat natives."
"She's Miranda," Luce said, remembering the love story from The Tempest, which she'd read in her tenth-grade Shakespeare seminar.
"How very civilized of you!" Bill pursed his lips with approval. "They are liek Ferdinand and Miranda: The handsome foreigner shipwrecks on her shores-"
"So,of course it was love at first sight for LuLu," Luce murmured. This was what she was afraid of: the same thoughtless,automatic love that had bothered her in Helston.
"Right," Bill said. "She didn't have a choice but to fall for him.But what's interesting here is Daniel. You see, he didn't have to teach he ~ Lauren Kate

Until you've been washed ashore you can't know how all encompassing the sea has become. ~ John Maerz

And thus they form a perfect group; he walks back two or three paces, selects his point of sight, and begins to sketch a hurried outline. He has finished it before they move; he hears their voices, though he cannot hear their words, and wonders what they can be talking of. Presently he walks on, and joins them.
'You have a corpse there, my friends?' he says.
'Yes; a corpse washed ashore an hour ago.'
'Drowned?'
'Yes, drowned; - a young girl, very handsome.'
'Suicides are always handsome,' he says; and then he stands for a little while idly smoking and meditating, looking at the sharp outline of the corpse and the stiff folds of the rough canvas covering.
Life is such a golden holiday to him young, ambitious, clever - that it seems as though sorrow and death could have no part in his destiny. ("The Cold Embrace") ~ Mary Elizabeth Braddon

First the slender Spear Tower, a hundred-and-a-half feet tall and crowned with a spear of gilded steel that added another thirty feet to its height; then the mighty Tower of the Sun, with its dome of gold and leaded glass; last the dun-colored Sandship, looking like some monstrous dromond that had washed ashore and turned to stone. ~ George R R Martin

I learned that politicians are not supposed to help people. They simply listen to people, nod their heads painfully, commiserate at proper intervals, promise to do all they can, and then do nothing. It was very instructive. I could probably have enlisted more action from a bleached jellyfish washed ashore in a seasonal storm. ~ Pat Conroy

Holy fairy feathers, why does he have to be so handsome? Why couldn't a haggard old man have washed ashore? ~ Amy Jarecki

She tried to speak; her mouth opened, once, twice, silent, a mermaid washed ashore. ~ Gillian Flynn

I guess I work in small ways. It's kind of like this story someone told me, about a guy on the beach in Mexico throwing starfish in the sea. Thousands had washed ashore. Someone asked him why - 'Why are you wasting your time, when there are so many? You can't possibly make a difference.'"
"I know that story! The man threw another one back, and said -"
"'Made a difference to that one!'" Rowan finishes. ~ Kirsten Hubbard

Words and stories washed ashore on that ancient way of the sea, and we made of them new songs. The sun came again, casting shadows that we peeled off the street to make of them new clothes. ~ Susan Abulhawa

Ever since I was in Amherst College I have remembered how Garman told his class in philosophy that if they would go along with events and have the courage and industry to hold to the main stream, without being washed ashore by the immaterial cross currents, they would someday be men of power. He meant that we should try to guide ourselves by general principles and not get lost in particulars. That may sound like mysticism, but it is only the mysticism that envelopes every great truth. One of the greatest mysteries in the world is the success that lies in conscientious work. ~ Calvin Coolidge

But the Count hadn't the temperament for revenge; he hadn't the imagination for epics; and he certainly hadn't the fanciful ego to dram of empires restored. No. His model for mastering his circumstances would be a different sort of captive altogether: an Anglican washed ashore. Like Robinson Crusoe stranded on the Isle of Despair, the count would maintain his resolve by committing to the business of practicalities. Having dispensed with dreams of quick discovery, the world's Crusoes seek shelter and a source of fresh water; they teach themselves to make fire from flint; they study their island's topography, it's climate, its flora and fauna, all the while keeping their eyes trained for sails on the horizon and footprints in the sand. ~ Amor Towles

Tsukuru couldn't fathom what this substance was. He couldn't accept or reject it. It merely settled on his body as a shadowy swarm, laying an ample amount of shadowy eggs. Then darkness would withdraw and twilight would return, bringing with it the birds, who once again slashed away at his body. ~ Haruki Murakami

I keep staring at the bag in Mrs. Parks's hand: yellows, greens, blues, whites, pastel colors so soft they look as if they have faded in the sea. The washed colors of the sea and sleep. Pajama colors. The colors of baby clothes. In my nose is the smell of my brothers' heads after they are born. Maybe this is why people making journeys buy saltwater taffy. It gives you the lovely dreamy sense that you can start all over again from the beginning. ~ Polly Horvath

When you go into the planes of light, all of the incorrect ways of seeing and understanding life that you pick up are washed away. ~ Frederick Lenz

Even if our own troubles are great, we should still serve. Jesus washed His disciples feet on the way to the cross. ~ Timothy Keller

We Let the Boat Drift

I set out for the pond, crossing the ravine
where seedling pines start up like sparks
between the disused rails of the Boston and Maine.

The grass in the field would make a second crop
if early autumn rains hadn't washed
the goodness out. After the night's hard frost
it makes a brittle rustling as I walk.

The water is utterly still. Here and there
a black twig sticks up. It's five years today,
and even now I can't accept what cancer did
to him -- not death so much as the annihilation
of the whole man, sense by sense, thought
by thought, hope by hope.

Once we talked about the life to come.
I took the Bible from the nightstand
and offered John 14: "I go to prepare
a place for you.""Fine. Good," he said.
"But what about Matthew? 'You, therefore,
must be perfect, as your heavenly Father
is perfect.'" And he wept.

My neighbor honks and waves driving by.
She counsels troubled students; keeps bees;
her goats follow her to the mailbox.

Last Sunday afternoon we went canoeing on the pond. Something terrible at school had shaken her. We talked quietly far from shore. The paddles
rested across our laps; glittering drops
fell randomly from their tips. The light
around us seemed alive. A loon-itinerant-
let us get quite close before it dove, coming up
after a long time, and ~ Jane Kenyon

To become straight, you have to transform your cock into a phallus, that well-washed instrument of power The asshole can remain dirty, but you've got to sew it up, forget the half of the penis that joins it, favor external part and confine orgasm to that part ~ Tony Duvert

Once when I was a tree, African sun woke me up green at dawn. African wind combed the branches of my hair. African rain washed my limbs. Once when I was a tree, flesh came and worshipped my roots. Flesh came to preserve my voice. Flesh came honoring my limbs. Now flesh comes with metal teeth, with chomping sticks and fire launchers. And flesh cuts me down and enslaves my limbs to make forts, ships, pews for other gods. Now flesh laughs at my charred and beaten frame, discarding me in the mud, burning me up in the flames. Flesh has grown pale and lazy. Flesh has sinned against the fathers. Now flesh listens no more to the voice of spirits talking through my limbs. If flesh would listen, I would warn him that the spirits are displeased and are planning what to do with him. But flesh thinks I am dead, charred and gone. Flesh thinks that by fire he can kill, thinks that with metal teeth, I will die. Thinks that all the voices linked from root to limb are silenced. Flesh does not know that he does not give me life, nor can he take it away. That Is What the spirits are singing now. It is time that flesh bow down on his knee again. ~ Ta-Nehisi Coates

I lived in New York my whole life. Like every New Yorker, I have stories about spending summers on the Jersey shore, riding the roller coaster in Seaside that is now famous for that sickening photo of it being washed out to sea. ~ Marissa Jaret Winokur

Inside I'm treading waters steady tryna swim ashore. ~ Drake

The candle's flame washed her in a sensual bath of pulsating light, and Hans became entranced by the soft glow upon her skin. ~ Nicki Elson

YOU
You are that song that plays rarely on the radio,
But when it does I have to sing it out loud…
You are the water that formed a puddle on a rainy day,that I played in,
When I was only eight years old.
You are the first snowfall of the season,
And the reason I like the morning...
You're a single seashell that washed up onto the shore.
You are my set of old medals
Hidden deep in a drawer…
You are the sun, the moon, the stars, and all the planets.
You are the first breath of a baby just born.

Eres una dandelion que encuentro,
I pull, make a wish, then blow.
You are the sunrise that I tried to paint
after I woke up in Eilat.
You give the nights its meaning…
to dream, while others just sleep.
You are my 3rd grade valentine,
Read, frayed and loved a thousand times.
Eres perfección envuelto en humildad…

Eres oro, plata, y diamantes…
Eres mi querido viejito Pooh, que nunca lo abandonare.
You are my first time driving my brother's Impala,
When I was just fourteen.
You are the name hidden deep inside my name…
And I'm the fingers interlaced with yours.
Eres el PS: I love you at the end la carta,
Y yo soy el PS: I love you too.
Somos el principio, el medio y la ultima palabra
De mi libro final.

Eternamente nosotros, nosotros, nosotros…
Porque nosotros siempre es mejor
Que solamente… yo…
YOU ~ Jose N Harris

What's mine is now yours. I mean, really. It should be. You have my heart, and everything else is just bonus. You told me the shadows don't bother you, and I'm trusting you. I want to marry you, Gabby. I want to live with you. I want to hold on to you and never let you go. I love you. If you don't want any of that, I'll understand. I won't like it, but I'll understand. Only, you should know that I won't give up. I'll romance the hell out of you until you finally cave."
Her legs almost gave out. This was everything she'd ever secretly dreamed. "I love you, too. I love you and I want to marry you, live with you, be with you forever. You have my heart. Why not my life, too? But if you think that means you don't have to romance me, you are in for a rude awakening."
"Thank God." He strode to her, grabbed her up, and carried her upstairs. "I was prepared to get on my knees and beg if necessary."
She grinned. She just couldn't help herself. "Don't let me stop you."
He chuckled, and the beautiful sound washed over her. "Oh, I'll get on my knees soon enough; don't worry. ~ Gena Showalter

Darkness
I find myself set upon a ship of fools and cast adrift.
Adrift in sea of madness, steaming towards a storm of uncertainty.
Overboard, swirling, twirling tumbling.
Engulfed in madness.
Shipwrecked, marooned.
Washed upon a rock of hope.
Darkness surrounds.
Within the darkness madness laps upon a distant shore.
Morning breaks and sun rises once more.
Darkness retreats into the shadows.
Golden rays of light cleanse the mind and soul.
A new day dawns heralding sanity, and hope
for the human race once more. ~ Michael Tianias

Hey, Sam," Drake shouted. "I thought you'd like to know this isn't my whole army."
Sam didn't doubt it.
"Your girl Brianna tried to stop us." Drake waved a bowie knife in the air. "I took this from her. I whipped her, Sam." He snapped his whip hand. The crack was like a pistol shot. "I broke her legs so she couldn't run. Then . . ."
Dekka was halfway over the side, ready to swim ashore. Jack grabbed her and held her.
"Let me go!" Dekka yelled.
"Hold her," Sam ordered Jack. "Don't be stupid, Dekka. He wants us to come rushing at him."
"I can beat him," Jack said. "Dekka and me together, we can kill him."
Sam registered the fact that Jack was actually making a physical threat. He didn't remember ever hearing that kind of thing from Jack. But Dekka was Sam's greater concern.
"I'm going to kill him," Dekka said in a voice so deep in her throat she sounded like an animal. "I'll kill him. I'll kill him." Then she shouted, "I'm going to kill you, Drake. I'm going to kill you!"
Drake grinned. "I think she liked it. She was screaming, but she liked it."
"He's lying," Toto said.
"Who?" Sam snapped.
"Him." He pointed at Drake. "He hasn't killed that girl or hurt her."
Dekka relaxed and Sam and Jack let go of her.
"Truth-teller Toto," Sam whispered. "He can tell when people are lying."
"I just decided I like you," Dekka said to Toto. "You might be useful."
Toto frowned. "It's true: you just decided you like m ~ Michael Grant

Economy denotes the the proper management of materials and of site, as well as a thrifty balancing of cost and common sense in the construction of works ... the architect does not demand things which cannot be found or made ready without great expense. For example: it is not everywhere that there is plenty of pitsand, rubble, fir, clear fir, and marble ... Where there is no pitsand, we must use the kinds washed up by rivers or by the sea ... and other problems we must solve in similar ways. ~ Marcus Vitruvius Pollio

She's shed her skins
and plasma jeans, gets around in 2K
retro gear like the frock she wears today;
a loose, white elegy to what's been lost.
Already she's flowing back into herself
the way a river flows to fill a creek bed.
But some hard layer has washed away
and left her softer, more interested. ~ Lisa Jacobson

Two aged men, that had been foes for life, Met by a grave, and wept - and in those tears They washed away the memory of their strife; Then wept again the loss of all those years. ~ Jean Paul

They don't really focus on that history here in America. I remember growing up as a kid, history class was very washed-over. They didn't really get into the gritty bits of slavery. It's a very, very small section in the history books. It's not something they really touch on directly with American curriculums. ~ Aldis Hodge

Our dreams have been doctored.We belong no where. We sail unanchored on troubled seas.We may never be allowed ashore. Our sorrows will never be sad enough. Our joys never happy enough. Our dreams never big enough. Our lives never important enough. To matter.. ~ Arundhati Roy

The Church recruited people who had been starched and ironed before they were washed. ~ John Wesley

In the fifties ... when they had their summer parties - there were always different colored lanterns on the lawn ... and I get the funniest chill. In the end the bright colors always go out of life, have you noticed that? In the end, things always look gray, like a dress that's been washed too many times. ~ Stephen King

An unexpected sight opens in front of my eyes, a sight I cannot ignore. Instead of the calm waters in front of the fortress, the rear side offers a view of a different sea - the sea of small, dark streets and alleys - like an intricate puzzle. The breathtaking scenery visible from the other side had been replaced by the panorama of poverty–stricken streets, crumbling house walls, and dilapidated facades that struggle to hide the building materials beneath them. It reminds me of the ghettos in Barcelona, the ghettos I came to know far too well. I take a deep breath and look for a sign of life - a life not affected by its surroundings. Nothing. Down, between the rows of dirty dwellings stretches a clothesline. Heavy with the freshly washed laundry it droops down, droplets of water trickling onto the soiled pavement from its burden. Around the corner, a group of filthy children plays with a semi–deflated soccer ball - it makes a funny sound as it bounces off the wall - plunk, plunk. A man sitting on a staircase puts out a cigarette; he coughs, spits phlegm on the sidewalk, and lights a new one. A mucky dog wanders to a house, lifts his leg, and pisses on it. His urine flows down the wall and onto the street, forming a puddle on the pavement. The children run about, stepping in the piss, unconcerned. An old woman watches from the window, her large breasts hanging over the windowsill for the world to see. Une vie ordinaire, a mundane life...life in its purest. These streets bring ~ Henry Martin

He saw tears rimming her blue eyes, tears that washed away Drizzt's anger, that told him that what had happened between himself and Catti-brie had apparently not been so deeply buried. The last time they had met, on this very spot, they had hidden the questions they both wanted to ask behind the energy of a sparring match. Catti-brie's concentration had to be complete on that occasion, and in the days before it, as she had fought to master her sword, but now that task was completed. Now, like Drizzt, she had time to think, and in that time, Catti-brie had remembered.

"Ye're knowing it was the sword?" she asked, almost pleaded.

Drizzt smiled, trying to comfort her. Of course it had been the sentient sword that had inspired her to throw herself at him. Fully the sword, only the sword. But a large part of Drizzt - and possibly of Catti-brie, he thought in looking at her - wished differently. There had been an undeniable tension between them for some time, a complicated situation, and even more so now, after the possession incident with Khazid'hea. ~ R.A. Salvatore

But even Carlin's words had no weight when fury washed over Kelsea; it was a tide that cleared all obstacles. ~ Erika Johansen

My son, you are now flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone. By the ceremony performed this day, every drop of white blood was washed from your veins; you were taken into the Shawnee Nation ... ~ Chief Blackfish

I hit my fist into the wall of the shower. I washed off the shame and anger in cold, cold water. ~ E. Lockhart

On the wall next to the door we'd entered through was a huge floor-to-ceiling bulletin/whiteboard combo and hanging from a thumbtack on the bulletin board amongst pictures and other various sorts of memorabilia was my bra. It'd been washed but it still had
a good many blotches of pink on it. If that wasn't shocking enough, the dialogue written over the last two weeks on the whiteboard pertaining to said bra certainly was. I'll include the copy just so you can truly appreciate what I'm dealing with here.
Tristan's Mom: What's this?
Tristan: A size 34B lace covered slingshot.
Jeff: Nice!
Tristan's Mom: Do I want to know?
Tristan: I don't know, do you?
Tristan's Mom: Not really. Are you planning on returning it or did you win some kind of prize?
Tristan: I plead the fifth.
Tristan's Dad: Well done son.
Jeff: Ditto!
Tristan's Mom: Don't encourage him.
Tristan: Gee, thanks Mom.
Tristan's Dad: Can't a father be proud of his only child?
Tristan's Mom: He doesn't need your help…obviously.
Tristan's Dad: That's because he takes after me.
Tristan: Was there anything else I can do for you two?
Tristan's Mom: Tell her I tried to get the stains out, but I'm afraid they set in before I got to it.
Tristan: I'm sure she'll appreciate your effort, but if I'm any judge (and I'd like to think I am) its
size has caused it to become obsolete and she needs to trade up.
Jeff: I'm so proud.
Trist ~ Jenn Cooksey

The fish that first ventured ashore had considerable practical problems. ~ Poul Anderson

Once when I was 16 I had my car taken away from me for being past curfew. Oh, and I said a bad word once, and I actually did get my mouth washed out with soap. ~ Ashlee Simpson

The artist's greatest creation began
the night he washed his memory of his failures
rubbed opium on his lips
drank the wine that women offered him
and lay down and wept. ~ Roman Payne

The washing of dishes does seem to me the most absurd and unsatisfactory business that I ever undertook. If, when once washed, they would remain clean for ever and ever (which they ought in all reason to do, considering how much trouble it is), there would be less occasion to grumble; but no sooner is it done, than it requires to be done again. On the whole, I have come to the resolution not to use more than one dish at each meal. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

A man goes out on the beach and sees that it is covered with starfish that have washed up in the tide. A little boy is walking along, picking them up and throwing them back into the water. "What are you doing, son?" the man asks. "You see how many starfish there are? You'll never make a difference." The boy paused thoughtfully, and picked up another starfish and threw it into the ocean. "It sure made a difference to that one," he said. ~ Nicholas D. Kristof

Thousands of dead fish have now washed up on shore along the coast of South Carolina. Today the NRA said that this wouldn't have happened if those fish had guns. ~ Jay Leno

The Beggar and the Monk - Paulo Coelho
A monk was meditating in the desert when a beggar came up to him and said:
"I need to eat".
The monk – who was almost reaching the point of perfect harmony with the spiritual world – did not answer.
"I need to eat", insisted the beggar.
"Go to the town and ask someone else. Can't you see that you are bothering me? I am trying to communicate with the angels".
"God placed himself lower than men, washed their feet, gave His life, and no-one recognized Him", the beggar replied. "He who says he loves God – who does not see – and forgets his brother – who does – is lying".
And the beggar turned into an angel.
"What a pity, you almost made it", he remarked before leaving. ~ Paulo Coelho

I recount as this journey begins where I rest to gather the tale from this
same old house resting on the hill, leaving me a view of a carnival once seen from just across the tracks. My pallet is dry now. The colors I see no more. The rain has washed away many of the signs that once stood for a prosper
home and family. My grave is waiting. The dreams once filled my head with
images of world unison, hope and companionship for all. The saga spoken
through my canvas drew darker as the years went on to the bitter cold nights.
All that comes to me now are glimpses of faces that graced my soul. ~ Kris Courtney

Now, hearing Tansi speak, Afua resumed her crying, but it was as though no one heard. These tears were a matter of routine. They came for all of the women. They dropped until the clay below them turned to mud. At night, Esi dreamed that if they all cried in unison, the mud would turn to river and they could be washed away into the Atlantic. ~ Yaa Gyasi

I'm older than I was, and I'm still washed-up, and I haven't changed my music one iota. It's just much easier to do this when people are being nice to you. ~ Ben Folds

Oblong stones sink
slow and sideways. Shaped
by the weight of waves,
dutifully vibrating nature's
lunar-bound graces,
they wash ashore only for
closed palms to forsake them.
The cheerful will
cherish them, place them
on windowsills, or on graves. ~ Kristen Henderson

The exceptions were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed glasses Harry recognized the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. They were barely feet from him when Harry realized who the man was.
Mundungus! ~ J.K. Rowling

Ministry with volunteer youth workers is not primarily about volunteers bringing refreshment to students, nor about youth pastors bringing refreshment to volunteers. It is about creating a space wherein people can find refreshment from Christ. It's about creating an upper room - holy ground where disciples can encounter Christ and be washed and refreshed by him. ~ Duffy Robbins

She yawned and stretched, and settled back again on her pillows and thought how perfect it would be if sleep could not only restore one but iron out all anxieties in the same process, so that one could wake with a totally clear and untroubled mind, as smooth and empty as a beach, washed and ironed by the outgoing tide. ~ Rosamunde Pilcher

I thought my teeth were white until I washed my face with Noxzema. My teeth are off-white. I'm not even white. I'm off-white. It's a new race; we will prevail! ~ Mitch Hedberg

Not one man in a million would have allowed me the time without speaking. I opened my mind, let my gaurd down completely, relaxed. His silence washed over me. I stood, closed my eyes, breathed out the relief that was too profound for words. ~ Charlaine Harris

This was something he'd done a great deal of when he was very young, so young the memory was washed to sepia with age. ~ Heidi Cullinan

All took leave from life in the manner which most suited them. Some praying, some deliberately drunk, others lustfully intoxicated for the last time. But the mothers stayed up to prepare the food for the journey with tender care, and washed their children and packed their luggage; and at dawn the barbed wire was full of children's washing hung out in the wind to dry. Nor did they forget the diapers, the toys, the cushions and the hundreds other small things which mothers remember and which children always need. Would you not do the same? If you and your child were going to die tomorrow, would you not give him to eat today? ~ Primo Levi

The snow ... came in thick tufts like new wool - washed before the weaver spins it. ~ Leslie Marmon Silko

The waves washed you away with their glory and the sun beckoned to you with its light. Your ears heard me calling but you knew it was time for you to say goodbye ~ K. Weikel

You are weak, Savannah. I can feel it when our minds merge."
"Stay out of my mind. You certainly weren't invited." Her hands went to her hips. "And just for the record, your mind needs to be washed out with soap! Half the things you think we're going to do are never going to happen. I could never look at you again."
He laughed. Aloud.An actual, real laugh. It welled up unexpectedly and emerged low and husky, with genuine amusement. Gregori nearly leapt the distance between them and dragged her into his arms, grateful beyond imagining.
She flung a pillow at his head. "Go ahead and laugh, you arrogant jerk." She wished she had a two-by-four handy. ~ Christine Feehan

Hundreds of bodies, riddled with German bullets, were washed out to sea by the gentle swell of the waves. ~ Alex Von Tunzelmann

It soon got so cold that the men rushed to close the doors. When they had shut them and the room was again silent, they saw that several women had begun to cry. The women said it was because of the numbing air that had washed over their bare shoulders, but even strangers embraced sadly as they coasted into the new year and felt its strength commencing. They cried because of the magic and the contradictions; because time had passed and time was left; because they saw themselves as if they were in a photograph that had winked fast enough to contradict their mortality; because the city around them had conspired to break a hundred thousand hearts; and because they and everyone else had to float upon this sea of troubles, watertight. Sometimes there were islands, and when they found them they held fast, but never could they hold fast enough not to be moved and once again overwhelmed. ~ Mark Helprin