Quotes & Sayings About Low Tide

It isn't just the way she feels, or smells, or tastes; it's the way she sighs into my mouth, like: finally. Like: you found me. Like: this is everything I dreamed it would be.

How do you ever stop kissing a girl like that?

Maybe it's just that simple, you idiot, I think as our tongues sweep over each other in lazy, relaxing rhythm, low tide on a calm day. You don't. — Dahlia Adler

Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools. — James Joyce

And when he came to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it was raining out of a low sky, and the tide was way out. — David Foster Wallace

At low tide, much of the sea changes to land, and then more than seven hundred islands can be counted. People come here to hide, to find something they can't find on the mainland, to get religion through solitude. From June till September, nearly every day is perfect, with the 10,778-foot volcano of Mount Baker rising from the tumble of the Cascades to the west, blue herons and bald eagles crowding the skies, killer whales breaching offshore. The water is exceptionally clear, the result of a twice-daily shift-change in tide, when it sweeps north toward the Strait of Georgia, then back south toward the Strait of Juan de Fuca. In some places, the rip tides create white water like rapids on a foaming river. Being is bliss. But then the winters come and the tourists all go home and clouds hang on the horizon and unemployment doubles and the island dweller is left with whatever it is that led him to escape the rest of the world. — Timothy Egan

When you draw a line in the sand, be careful it is not low tide. — Dixie Waters

Undertow"
"I set out one night
When the tide was low
There were signs in the sky
But I did not know
I'd be caught in the grip
Of the undertow
Ditched on a beach
Where the sea hates to go
With a child in my arms
And a chill in my soul
And my heart the shape
Of a begging bowl — Leonard Cohen

In the high tide or low tide, I'm gonna be your friend ... I'm gonna be your friend! — Bob Marley

Clair de Lune," a song that makes her think of leaves fluttering, and of the hard ribbons of sand beneath her feet at low tide. The music slinks and rises and settles back to earth, — Anthony Doerr

A rising tide of desire threatened to swamp her like a tidal wave, washing away fear and doubt and leaving behind it the knowledge that in her topsy turvy life, she was certain of only one thing: she wanted this man, right now, and she'd deal with the consequences later....
"I want to make love to you," he said, his voice low and thrumming through her veins as if it were a music only she could hear. — Deborah Blake

There's no doubt that the Moon is more than a handy night light and a hair restorer for werewolves. It's responsible for the substantial amplitude of earthly ocean tides. These are of obvious influence if you're a geoduck, a type of clam that people dig up at low tide. — Seth Shostak

In high seas or in low seas, I'm gonna be your friend ... I'm gonna be your friend. In high tide or in low tide, I'll be by your side ... I'll be by your side. — Bob Marley

Don't worry. If we sink, we'll swim together to shore. We'll use your bewitching chapeau as a float."
The nose of the yacht dipped hard, then rose. The wing began a low howl around us.
"I'm not blotto," he said, in response to my expression. He turned to the railing and chucked the empty flute to the waves. "Not yet, in any case."
I went to stand beside him. The flute had sunk beneath the surface already, on its way to an eternity of sand and tide.
"That's good. Because I can't swim."
"Why did you go swimming in the grotto, then," he asked too pleasantly, "if you can't swim?"
"I wasn't swimming there. I was smoke, at the ceiling, when you came in. Falling into the water was an accident."
"You're welcome," Armand said.
I refused to ask for what. We both knew. — Shana Abe

On a summer morning she woke to a sense of returning health. She had been lying like a waste shore, at low spring-tide, covered with dry seaweeds, withered jelly-fishes, and a multitudinous life that gasped for the ocean: at last the cook washing throb of the great sea of bliss, whose fountain is the heart of God, had stolen upon her consciousness, and she knew that she lived. — George MacDonald

Yet however comforting and peaceful beach-combing is, it ends up like the sea, as disturbing as it is reassuring. In dark moments I believe that walking on a beach at low tide is to be looking for death, or at least anticipating it. You will only find the dead, the spilled and the cast-off. Things torn free of their life or their place. — Tim Winton

The tide will turn, Miss Willow." A smile lurked around his mouth, but no, that was not possible, that the earl of Tiern-Cope should smile, and at her.
"It hasn't yet."
"You may find the sea casts you onto the shores of paradise." His voice was low and soft, and Olivia felt her heart stir at the sound. "Or through the very gates of hell."
"So it might." She gave herself a mental shake. Lord Tiern-Cope could not possibly be flirting with her. Impossible. "But that won't stop me from embracing this moment in all its beautiful perfection."
"With but one flaw, Miss Willow."
"Whatever could that be?"
"Don't even try to tell me I don't spoil the present perfection of your moment." The corner of his lip twitched and then gave up. He smiled, and she, perverse creature that she was, felt like she'd been tossed off a cliff with him standing at the bottom to catch her. — Carolyn Jewel

As the sun shines low and red across the water, I wade into the ocean. The water is still high and brown and murky with the memory of the storm, so if there's something below it, I won't know it. But that's part of this, the not knowing. The surrender to the possibilities beneath the surface. It wasn't the ocean that killed my father, in the end. The water is so cold that my feet go numb almost at once. I stretch my arms out to either side of me and close my eyes. I listen to the sound of water hitting water. The raucous cries of the terns and the guillemots in the rocks of the shore, the piercing, hoarse questions of the gulls above me. I smell seaweed and fish and the dusky scent of the nesting birds onshore. Salt coats my lips, crusts my eyelashes. I feel the cold press against my body. The sand shifts and sucks out from under my feet in the tide. I'm perfectly still. The sun is red behind my eyelids. The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me. — Maggie Stiefvater

and it seemed to me that we was like seafarers, and the tober was the ocean. We was passing the landlubbers by. We gawped at each other, us from our ships, and them from their shores, but the gap between us was so big we couldn't cross it. It was high tide or low tide, or whatever tide would prevent us from dropping anchor and rowing out to them, to exchange gifts and brides, gods and diseases" Outside Boy pg.55 — Jeanine Cummins

Welcome to Chicago. This town stinks like a whorehouse at low tide. — David Mamet

It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as possible, indrawn: the tide far out, the ocean shrunken, seabirds in ones or twos. The rackety, icy, offshore wind numbed our faces on one side; disrupted the formation of a lone flight of Canada geese; and blew back the low, inaudible rollers in upright, steely mist. — Elizabeth Bishop

The feelings we live through
in love and in loneliness
are simply, for us,
what high tide
and low tide are to the sea. — Kahlil Gibran

The day had been a slowly closing door. The rest of the world moved on out into the stream of life, while I was left stranded and forgotten on the riverbank, at low tide. — Lia Mills

A mother and daughter are an edge.
Edges are ecotones, transitional zones,
places of danger or opportunity.
House-dwelling tension.
When I stand on the edge of the land and sea,
I feel this tension, this fluid line of transition.
High tide. Low tide.
It is the sea's reach and retreat
that reminds me
we have been human
for only a very short time. — Terry Tempest Williams

Now I am beginning to live a little and feel less like a sick oyster at low tide. — Louisa May Alcott

he -
the fatal lodestar - sinks
his rapier into the ground,
reclines on a four-poster bed

of crinoline and trash, remembers
the fidelity of man, his honorific
native tongue, humbly requests
a glass of water. It is the last glass

of water in the world. The fly
merely circulates. I could die here,
not unhappily, but won't; -
the world will continue,

panoptic, bread will be baked,
the children will sleep fast.
It is the first day of the last day.
The low tide moans its applause — Virginia Konchan

In high tide or in low tide,
I'll be by your side — Bob Marley

The Golden Mean. Who founded firm and sure Would ever live secure, In spite of storm and blast Immovable and fast; Whoso would fain deride The ocean's threatening tide; - His dwelling should not seek On sands or mountain-peak. Upon the mountain's height The storm-winds wreak their spite: The shifting sands disdain Their burden to sustain. Do thou these perils flee, Fair though the prospect be, And fix thy resting-place On some low rock's sure base. Then, though the tempests roar, Seas thunder on the shore, Thou in thy stronghold blest And undisturbed shalt rest; Live all thy days serene, And mock the heavens' spleen. — Anonymous

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. — Rachel Carson

All emotion receded, pulled out like low tide, leaving my brain an empty ocean bottom — Laura Wiess

January snow lay thick on the ground - crusty, pitted, and hardened, some of it like the bubbly honeycomb of air-dried sea foam in the tide wrack down at the beach, the sort of snow that stays so long you get used to the intrusion of that world of uninvited white, a hooded subverted landscape, sparkling in the low flame of a sallow sunrise on a winter morning. — Paul Theroux

Madam, my father has left me flopping like a flounder at low tide and you say what's the matter. — Harper Lee

In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. — Joseph Conrad

Trends come like a series of ocean waves, bringing the high tide when things are good and, as conditions recede, the low tide appears. These trends come unexpectedly, unpredictably, and they have to be weathered with temperance, poise, and patience- good or bad. — Jesse Lauriston Livermore

But three, now, Christ three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! — Ray Bradbury

He smiles, his palpable charisma pulling me in like low tide. Or riptide. — Lisa Daily

I picked up the umeboshi from my tray and popped it into my mouth. I made a show of savoring the flavor. Truth be known, it was sour enough to twist my mouth as tight as a crab's ass at low tide, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing that. — Hiroshi Sakurazaka

Moon and Sea
You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:
The tide of hope swells high within my breast,
And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest
When your fond eyes smile near in perigee.
But when that loving face is turned from me,
Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,
And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear.
You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea. — Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The two last were in full tide of spirits, and the Baron rallied in his way our hero upon the handsome figure which his new dress displayed to advantage. 'If you have any design upon the heart of a bonny Scottish lassie, I would premonish you when you address her to remember the words of Virgilius:
"Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes."
Whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the clan Donnochy, unless the claims of Lude ought to be preferred primo loco, has thus elegantly rendered:
"For cruel love has gartan'd low my leg,
And clad my hurdies in a philabeg."
Although indeed ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve most of the two, as more ancient and seemly.'
'Or rather,' said Fergus, 'hear my song:
"She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
Nor be an English lady;
But she's away with Duncan Graeme,
And he's rowed her in his plaidy. — Walter Scott

I don't see why a poem couldn't be spoken out a car window or written on the beach at low tide. In fact, I'm sure people are doing it. — James Arthur

There is no such thing as low-cost Christianity. Following Jesus means swimming against the tide, renouncing evil and selfishness — Pope Francis

There, below the cliffs, is a bay of sand where the rocks stand up like the fangs of wolves, and no boat or swimmer can live when the tide is breaking round them. To right and left of the bay the sea has driven arches through the cliff. The rocks are purple and rose-coloured and pale as turquoise in the sun, and on a summer's evening when the tide is low and the sun is sinking, men see on the horizon land that comes and goes with the light. It is the Summer Isle, which (they say) floats and sinks at the will of heaven, the Island of Glass through which the clouds and stars can be seen, but which for those who dwell there is full of trees and grass and springs of sweet water . . .' The — Mary Stewart