Beachcombing Quotes

I'm still obsessed with the beach whenever I'm home; when I'm on the beach, it feels like home to me.

Along the beach I never collected shells from my father's shore.

I pass my time in the open air on the beach when it is really heavy weather or when the boats go out fishing.

When I go to the beach, even the tide won't come in.

I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-borne treasures home.

The Shell The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear. You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.

When I'm not acting, I'm at the beach. I like to spend a lot of time in the water, surfing.

Whitley Bay was my first experience of the seaside. I'd buy my bucket and spade, and beach ball, and all the shops were teeming with toys. I used to spend hours on the shuggy boats.

I like to go to the beach, have a bonfire, and play music.

I remember thinking that walking on the beach as a free man is pretty desirable.

I have to at least get a couple weekends in where I can just be on Santa Monica beach or Malibu and just ride the waves.

I'm partial to the Cornish coast, as it's near where I grew up in Plymouth. The views across the water are stunning. I love walking along the sandy beaches and the seafront paths.

I don't go to the beach. There is no value in going to the beach. If I did go I would probably read economics books.

I'm a total beach bum.

Some of my best memories of growing up on Long Island include spending all day fishing for fluke on Great South Bay.

They trekked out along the crescent sweep of beach, keeping to the firmer sand below the tidewrack. They stood, their clothes flapping softly. Glass floats covered with a gray crust. The bones of seabirds. At the tideline a woven mat of weeds and the ribs of fishes in their millions stretching along the shore as far as the eye could see like an isocline of death. One vast salt sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.

One cannot collect all the beautiful shells on the beach.

The sea, vast and wild as it is, bears thus the waste and wrecks of human art to its remotest shore. There is no telling what it may not vomit up.

My parents would drive us to Florida every spring in this big old, rusy Suburban, and we'd collect stuff on the beach for our aquarium back in Ohio; we had this big saltwater aquarium back in Ohio. Every time we found anything, any mollusk, my mom would bring out the guidebook and quiz us on what it was, so that stuff was built in early.

I became a beach bum.

Beach is a place where a man can feel he's the only soul in the world that's real.

As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?

I went to the beach a couple of times in New York City. Tough summer out there, but I was pretty excited. I found what I thought at the time was a very rare seashell. And I took it to a friend of mine who works in a museum. And I was really disappointed. It turned out to be just a human ear.

I love the beach; I grew up on the Baltic Sea. I love the beach. I love the water. I love surfing and swimming.