Saltwater Quotes

“We hit the sunny beaches where we occupy ourselves keeping the sun off our skin, the saltwater off our bodies, and the sand out of our belongings.”

“drenching his shirt with saltwater”

“He imagines Owens' body dotted with saltwater reservoirs just below the skin. An entire wetland, populated with tiny fish and birds, thriving in his agitation. A species of dwarf crocodile lazing beside an artery.”

“...Food serves two parallel purposes: it nourishes and it helps you remember. Eating and storytelling are inseparable—the saltwater is also tears; the honey not only tastes sweet, but makes us think of sweetness; the matzo is the bread of our affliction.”

“Now our father lived in a world where we didn’t belong, with a needy girlfriend who didn’t look much older than Henri, a saltwater pool in need of daily skimming, and a flashy Porsche that needed to be raced around the roads of wine country.Fortunately, we didn’t need him either—that’s what Henri said.”

“There either is or is not, that’s the way things are. The colour of the day. The way it felt to be a child. The saltwater on your sunburnt legs. Sometimes the water is yellow, sometimes it’s red. But what colour it may be in memory, depends on the day. I’m not going to tell you the story the way it happened. I’m going to tell it the way I remember it.— Great Expectations (1998) directed by Alfonso Cuarón”

“Kissing Amber was like falling into the sea: Her body surrendered to the pull of the tide, buoyed by the saltwater, every breath tasting like the ocean. Reese lost all sense of where the surface was. All there was, was this. Amber’s lips, her tongue, her hands stroking back Reese’s hair, curling around her head and holding her steady. If their first kiss had been a bit awkward, that was gone now.”

“In the sea, Corr’s clumsiness will disappear, his weight cradled by the saltwater. I don’t want to say good-bye. I blink to clear my vision and reach up. I pull off his halter. The ocean is his love and now, finally, he’ll have it. I back out of the surf. There’s a thin, long wail. Corr takes a labored step away from the November sea. And another. He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.”

“To count the stones losing countis the sense of our life: the algebraof our displacements.To follow paths losing sense is the circumvolution, the evolution: the logicof our moments. But. No.There is no symmetry in our acts.Never the chance of steps that surprise usto salt.Our time machine. Forward.Never backward the meat machine.No turning back. No turning back.There is no remedy: deathis an incurable asymmetry.Huge is the ticking of the Clock butbut our time has the clutch, the vortexthe saltwater of a wave that covers us.It reshapes and hollows out the face, like sandrobs us of our flesh.”

“The coast is an edgy place. Living on the coast presents certain stark realities and a wild, rare beauty. Continent confronts ocean. Weather intensifies. It's a place of tide and tantrum; of flirtations among fresh- and saltwaters, forests and shores; of tense negotiations with an ocean that gives much but demands more. Every year the raw rim that is this coast gets hammered and reshaped like molten bronze. This place roils with power and a sometimes terrible beauty. The coast remains youthful, daring, uncertain about tomorrow. The guessing, the risk; in a way, we're all thrill seekers here.”