Coastal Ecosystem Quotes

The San Diego region in many ways is defined by our relationship with the ocean. It's our front yard and a beautiful playground for families and visitors. It should be clean, safe, and inviting.

I'm from the gulf coast of Louisiana.

The primordial sea indefatigably repeats the same words and casts up the same astonished beings on the same sea-shore.

I grew up in the Southwest of the U.K., on the coast in Cornwall. I used to keep a marine fish tank outside the house, where we would go down to the tide pools and catch fish and crabs. I think I caught a cuttlefish once.

I love taking the boat to the Farne Islands, a few miles offshore. It has a National Trust bird sanctuary with seals and every sort of seabird you can imagine.

I love the sea, but I avoid any sort of seaside resort that has skyscrapers or seaside entertainments.

I grew up in Nova Scotia, and my uncle lived close to the Bay of Fundy. We would walk across the mud flats out to an island, and then you'd climb a cliff and be in the forest. And if the water came in, the basin would fill up with, like, a 30-foot tide. It was phenomenal.

Her fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.

When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark: But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.

From the rugged cliffs of Cape Liptrap peninsula jutting bravely into the swells of Bass Strait, the coast arcs southeast, hugging the waters of Waratah Bay with sweeping flat lines of fine pale sand and knotty scrub.

Up to 80 percent of the fish that we catch spend at least part of their lives in estuaries.

Lindsey Graham has wavered on this, but I won't: We need to ban offshore drilling. A spill off our beaches would destroy jobs and harm the coastal environment that makes South Carolina beautiful.

The sand swallows burst out of their scupper holes in the bluffs and out over the transparent drown of the water, back again to the white, to the brown, to the black, from moving to stock-still sand waves and water-worked woods and roots that hugged and twisted in the sun.

At the end of the block where I used to live in Coconut Grove in Miami, there's a swampy area, a no-name alcove with a little mangrove estuary. It's beautiful.

The shore is an ancient world, for as long as there has been an earth and sea there has been this place of the meeting of land and water.

I think the concept of the sea is very important.

A beach is not only a sweep of sand, but shells of sea creatures, the sea glass, the seaweed, the incongruous objects washed up by the ocean.

You can never turn your back on the ocean.

When we go down to the low-tide line, we enter a world that is as old as the earth itself - the primeval meeting place of the elements of earth and water, a place of compromise and conflit and eternal change.