Quotes about Waves

There will be signs in the sun and moon and stars, and on the earth dismay among the nations, bewildered by the roaring of the sea and the surging of the waves.

But the vessel struck a sandbar and ran aground. The bow stuck fast and would not move, and the stern was being broken up by the pounding of the waves.

They are wild waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars, for whom blackest darkness has been reserved forever.

Faith is like a rock; feelings are like waves.

Look at the view from here. If we were down on the shore, we wouldn't be able to see how the two boats maneuver to avoid each other. We can see the lighthouse and the Dungeness Spit. From up here, we can see lots of things we couldn't if we were in the middle of the waves." She got where he was going. "Now that it's all over, we can see how God took care of us through this.

Does not the Wise Man tell us—"Life is like a ship that passeth through the waves: when it is gone by, the trace thereof cannot be found"?

She had known happiness, exquisite happiness, intense happiness, and it silvered the rough waves a little more brightly, as daylight faded, and the blue went out of the sea and it rolled in waves of pure lemon which curved and swelled and broke upon the beach and the ecstasy burst in her eyes and waves of pure delight raced over the floor of her mind and she felt, It is enough! It is enough!

so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again...

Oh, to awake from dreaming! Look, there is the chest of drawers. Let me pull myself out of this waters. But they heap themselves on me; they sweep me between their great shoulders; I am turned; I am tumbled; I am stretched, among these long lights, these long waves, these endless paths, with people pursuing, pursuing.

The streets seemed to chafe the very air...and lift its leaves hotly, brilliantly, on waves of that divine vitality which Clarissa loved.

The meagre lighthouse all in white, haunting the seaboard, as if it were the ghost of an edifice that had once had colour and rotundity, dripped melancholy tears after its late buffeting by the waves.

And it seemed she was like the sea, nothing but dark waves rising and heaving, heaving with a great swell, so that slowly her whole darkness was in motion, and she was Ocean rolling its dark, dumb mass.