Beach Quotes

“One day, all your worries will set like the sun does and deserved happiness will come gushing like waves at the beach do. All you need to make sure id that your trips to beach never end.”
― Jasleen Kaur Gumber

“A clock that is moving through space at a very fast speed does not tick at the same rate as a slow-moving watch gently attached to your wrist as you stroll on a tropical beach. The idea of a universal time - a godlike clock that could somehow sit outside our universe and measure, in one go, the movement of everything in it, how its evolution unfolds, how old it is and all that - does not exist.”
― Christophe Galfard, The Universe in Your Hand: A Journey Through Space, Time, and Beyond

“The idea of lying on a beach as my main thing just sounds like the worst — it sounds horrible to me. I would go bonkers. I would have to be on serious drugs. I’d be super-duper bored. I like high intensity.”
― Elon Musk

“Have you ever walked along a beach? You walk towards something in the distance. For the longest while it never seems to get any closer even though you are walking and walking. Then all of a sudden, you are there. You’ve arrived at last. That's what grief is like. Meanwhile we are running with you in the spray of the surf at the edge of the shore where the sand meets the sea. We are cheering you on.”
― Kate McGahan, Jack McAfghan: Return from Rainbow Bridge: A Dog's Afterlife Story of Loss, Love and Renewal

“In town, there's a tiny beach that's never busy, not even in the summer.

I used to like walking there, looking for stuff.

Like old fireworks.

Or kelp.

A hat knocked off someone's head by the wind.

You basically never find what you were expecting to.

And maybe you weren't expecting to find anything right from the start...”
― Inio Asano, A Girl on the Shore

“Dear Waves,
You have been restless all your life? Or maybe uneasy? I don't know quite. Oscillating between faiths, swinging between shores!
Yet when we sit next to you on those sands, do you never feel like sharing what bothers you so much?”
― Jasleen Kaur Gumber

“One day, all your worries will set like the sun does and deserved happiness will come gushing like waves at the beach do. All you need to make sure is that your trips to beach never end.”
― Jasleen Kaur Gumber

“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, Of My Maiden Smoking

“...I lived for those long casual walks down the beach and the sight of her small footprints in the glistening wet sand...”
― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline

“The sunset was a massive canvas of gold and orange, green and rose, gray and indigo and blue. It reminded him of beaches on the North American west coast, except there were no vendors clogging the place and no advertising drones muttering about the joys of commerce.”
― James S.A. Corey, Cibola Burn

“Her pace is furious as she walks along the beach, the surf competing with the noise in her head.”
― Anita Shreve, Sea Glass

“But during those two months of fog . . . the saddest and the heaviest thing was to stand beside the sea. To be upon the beach yourself, and see the long waves coming in; to know that they are long waves, but only see a piece of them. And to hear them lifting roundly, swelling over smooth green rocks, plashing down in the hollow corners, but bearing on all the same as ever, soft and sleek and sorrowful, till their little noise is over.”
― R.D. Blackmore, Lorna Doone

“Oh my God, look!”
I stand and hold out my hand for Sam to inspect.
“Wow,” he says, taking the glass and holding it up to the sun. “Red is, like, the rarest color there is.
You’re totally lucky you even saw it.”
I take the deep red, half-dollar-sized piece from him and smile, looking out across the ocean. I told Matt in my letter before we left that I’d find a piece just for him, but now that it’s actually here, sparkling in my hand, I know he’d want me to do something else with it.
I raise it above my head and throw it as hard and as far as I can into the sea.
Let someone else have a lucky day, Anna.
Sam laughs. “Hey, crazy, what’d you do that for? You’ll probably never see something like that again in your entire life.”
“Right. But I did see it. And now someone else can, too.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“The sea air and society were meant to coax her out of her shell before her season commenced.
It didn't quite work that way.
Instead, Maddie spent most of those weeks with shells. Collecting them on the beach, sketching them in her notebook, and trying not to think about parties or balls or gentlemen.”
― Tessa Dare, When a Scot Ties the Knot

“Palm trees were fanned by a warm, light breeze, and they rolled down their windows to smell the sea.”
― Jude Watson

“He felt more cheerful, revived by the journey, released from himself and his poor life, uplifted by thoughts of the infinite.”
― Georges Rodenbach, The Bells of Bruges

“So get up, pretty woman!
And from your beautifully shaped body don’t be ashamed
For we are meant to be different,
Rounded shapes and squared
We come in a small, medium and a large size
And to each there is still a wide range
This is to create a beautiful portrait for the eyes
And we are not supposed to please the “media-thinking” and change!
So woman up!
Whether your size is infinity-X large or infinity-X Small
In love with “you” you should fall
Don’t let them and their meaningless words or shallow looks
Make you lose it all
As to this nature you belong,
The beach, the mountains, the oceans
And the colorful life this mother earth has to give
So embrace this with your body and soul
No matter how they evolve…
For as long as you live!”
― Abeer Allan

“Dear Matt,
In less than a day, I’ ll be standing on the same sand you stood on so many times before. Well, not the same sand, with the tides and winds and erosion and all of that, but the same symbolic sand. I’m so excited and scared that I can’ t sleep – even though I have to wake up in five hours!
You know, I saved every one of your postcards. They’re here in a box under my bed – all the little stories you sent, like little pieces of California. Like the beach glass you guys always brought me. Sometimes I dump it out on my desk and press my ear to the pieces, trying to hear the ocean. Trying to hear you.
But you don’ t say anything.
Remember how you’ d come back from your vacation on the beach and tell me what it really felt like? What the ocean sounded like at dawn when the beach was deserted? What your hair and skin tasted like after swimming in saltwater all day? How the sand could burn your feet as you walked on it, but if you stuck your toes in, it was cold and wet underneath? How you spent three hours sitting on Ocean Beach just to watch the sun sink into the water a million miles away? If I closed my eyes as you were talking, it was like I was there, like your stories were my stories. In many ways, I feel as if I have memories of you there, too. Do you think that’s crazy?
Matt, please don’ t think badly about Frankie’s contest. It’s just a silly game. It’s so Frankie, you know?
No, I guess you wouldn’ t. You’ d kill her if you did!
She just misses you. We all do. I’ ll look out for her, though. I promise.
Please watch over us tomorrow, and for the next few weeks while we’re away. You’ ll be in my thoughts the whole time, like always.
I’m going to find some red sea glass for you.
I miss you more than you could ever know.
Love,
Anna”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“If Kumar had his way they would leave for Fiji every year just before Thanksgiving and not return until the New Year rang in and the decorations came down. They would swim with the fishes and lie on the beach eating papaya. On the years they were tired of Fiji they would go to Bali or Sydney or any sunny, sandy place whose name contained an equal number of consonants and vowels.”
― Ann Patchett, Commonwealth

“A school of porpoises broke the surface of the water twenty feet from where we had sat down[...]Each individual porpoise made a sound slightly different from that of any other, so that the school, all twelve of them, flaring and sliding and dancing so near us, formed a kind of woodwind section on the sea's surface or even a single instrument, something unknown and astonishing to man, a celebration of breath itself, of oxygen and sea water and sunlight. They had the eyes of large dogs and their skin was the loveliest, silkiest green imaginable.”
― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline

“The day was cold, and every time the little transparent fans of water swept in and drew back, the wet sand mirrored a clear sky and the sun on its way down.”
― Gina Berriault, Stolen Pleasures: Selected Stories of Gina Berriault

“Urban callused feet
Walking barefoot on the beach
Worn smooth by the sand”
― Richard L. Ratliff

“Brian and Avis deliver their stacks and try to refuse dinner, but the waiters bring them glasses of burgundy, porcelain plates with thin, peppery steaks redolent of garlic, scoops of buttery grilled Brussels sprouts, and a salad of beets, walnuts, and Roquefort. They drag a couple of lawn chairs to a quiet spot on the street and they balance the plates on their laps. Some ingredient in the air reminds Avis of the rare delicious trips they used to make to the Keys. Ten years after they'd moved to Miami they'd left Stanley and Felice with family friends and Avis and Brian drove to Key West on a sort of second honeymoon. She remembers how the land dropped back into distance: wetlands, marsh, lazy-legged egrets flapping over the highway, tangled, sulfurous mangroves. And water. Steel-blue plains, celadon translucence.
She and Brian had rented a vacation cottage in Old Town, ate small meals of fruit, cheese, olives, and crackers, swam in the warm, folding water. Each day stirring into the next, talking about nothing more complicated than the weather, spotting a shark off the pier, a mysterious constellation lowering in the west. Brian sheltered under a celery-green umbrella while Avis swam: the water formed pearls on the film of her sunscreen. They watched the night's rise, an immense black curtain from the ocean. Up and down the beach they hear the sounds of the outdoor bars, sandy patios switching on, distant strains of laughter, bursts of music. Someone played an instrument- quick runs of notes, arpeggios floating in soft ovals like soap bubbles over the darkening water.”
― Diana Abu-Jaber, Birds of Paradise

“Are you taking us to the beach?" - Dan Cahill”
― Jude Watson, Nowhere to Run

“Now Borluut was seeing it from close to. And to its very end, it seemed, from the way the line of the horizon merged into the infinite. It was bare. Not one ship. It ground out a dirge, in a glaucous tone, opaque, uniform. One sensed that all the colours were below, but faded. At the edge, the waves spilling onto the shore made a sound of washerwomen beating sheets of white linen, a whole supply of shrouds for future storms.”
― Georges Rodenbach, The Bells of Bruges

“En milieu de matinée, je suis allé à la plage. Seul. J'avais besoin de rassembler mes idées. Nous n'étions qu'à Pâques, mais il faisait chaud, et quelques personnes se baignaient. L'eau marronnasse ne me tentait absolument pas. Bon sang, on pourrait quand même changer ça avec un bon logiciel de retouche, ai-je pensé. Merde, ce n'était quand même pas compliqué de virer ce marron chiasseux et de le remplacer par du bleu-turquoise. C'est l'océan, m'a dit le graphiste, le mouvement des marrées brasse le fond, et ça donne cette couleur-là, mais c'est naturel, vous comprenez, ce n'est pas trafiqué, ouais, ça fait naturel ce marron-là, ça fait vrai. J'ai répliqué que le réel on s'en foutait, que ce qui comptait c'était ce qui faisait beau et pas forcément ce qui faisait naturel, que ces deux notions n'étaient pas forcément compatibles, qu'elles l'étaient même rarement, d'ailleurs, que le réel et le naturel étaient rarement ce qui y avait de plus beau.”
― Laurent Bettoni

“This [sand-dollar hunting] had become one of our rituals together, and though she would search for other varieties of shells when I was out of town or unable to see her, she would wait until I appeared on her front porch before setting off to extract these mute delicate coins from their settings in the sand. At first, we had collected only the larger specimens, but gradually as we learned what was rare and to be truly prized, we began to gather only the smallest sand dollars for our collection. Our trophies were sometimes as small as thumbnails and as fragile as contact lenses. Annie Kate collected the tiniest relics, round and cruciform and white as bone china when dried of sea water, and placed them in a glass-and-copper cricket box in her bedroom. Often we would sit together and admire the modest splendor of our accumulation. At times it looked like the coinage of a shy, diminutive species of angel. Our quest to find the smallest sand dollar became a competition between us, and as the months passed and Annie Kate grew larger with the child, the brittle, desiccated animals we unearthed from the sand became smaller and smaller. It was all a matter of training the eye to expect less.”
― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline

“I cannot express how lordly and transfigured I felt at that moment. I was a prince of that harbor, a porpoise king - slim among the buoys and the water traffic.”
― Pat Conroy, The Lords of Discipline

“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, Theft by Finding: Diaries 1977-2002

“C'est une vie magnifique que d'être un baobab sur une plage.”
― Nathacha Appanah, Tropique de la violence