The sea! The sea! The open sea!, The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
I'm not out to change the world. I'm out to change mine.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of trauma, I will fear no concussion.
The sweet love between the moon and the deep blue sea.
Between my potential and the deep blue sea, There's a rock and a diamond either side of me. Between our potential and the break of day, There is nothing at all in our way.
Far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleam Like islands on a dark blue sea.
I would love to do orange and lemon trees silhouetted against the blue sea, but I cannot find them the way I want them.
nights and days came and passed and summer and winter and the sun and the wind and the rain. and it was good to be a little island a part of the world and a world of its own all surrounded by the bright blue sea.
MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me!
Joy to the world All the boys and girls now Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea Joy to you and me
A certain man once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That’s what I like about coincidence.
If Ford is to Chevrolet what Dodge is to Chrysler, what Corn Flakes are to Post Toasties, what the clear blue sky is to the deep blue sea, what Hank Williams is to Neil Armstrong - can you doubt we were made for each other?
Modern women are squeezed between the devil and the deep blue sea, and there are no lifeboats out there in the form of public policies designed to help these women combine their roles as mothers and as workers.
If I had to pick one tribe to go back and live with permanently - and I hate doing this, it's not a contest - it would be the people of Anuta, in the South Pacific. It's got white beaches, blue seas, good food and gentle, friendly people who have a wonderful philosophy of sharing. And it's warm.
But the past is passed; why moralize upon it? Forget it. See, yon bright son has forgotten it all, and the blue sea, and the blue sky; these have turned over new leaves. Because they have no memory . . . because they are not human.
With his back to us, Sean tugs the halter from the mare's head. She kicks out, but he steps out of the way as if it were nothing at all. With a shake of her mane, she leaps mightily into the water. For a moment she struggles over the waves, and then she is swimming. Just a wild black horse in a deep blue sea full of the ashes of other dead boys.
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