— You stand on the beach and taste the salty smell of the wind that comes from the ocean, and inside you feel the warmth of never ending freedom, and on your lips the bitter, tear-soaked kiss of your lover.
— I have never been to the ocean.
— That can't be true! You have never ever been to the ocean?
— Never — ever!
Both of us are knocking on heavens door, drinking tequila — we are biting-the-dust experts — and you have never — ever been to the ocean! -
— Never — ever!
— Don't you know how it is when you arrive in heaven? In heaven that's all they talk about — the ocean — and how wonderful it is. They talk about the sunsets they have seen. They talk about how the sun turned blood-red before it set. And they talk about how they felt
when the sun was loosing its power, — and the cold that was coming from the ocean, while the rest of the fire was still glowing. And you -
You can't talk about it with them, since you have never been there! You will be a fucking outsider up there! And there is nothing we can do about it?
The sea's onIy gifts are harsh bIows and, occasionaIIy, the chance to feeI strong. Now, I don't know much about the sea, but l do know that that's the way it is here. And l also know how important it is in Iife not necessariIy to be strong, but to feeI strong,
to measure yourseIf at Ieast once, to find yourseIf at Ieast once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing the bIind, deaf stone aIone with nothing to heIp you but your hands and your own head.
— The boy's not here. He must have been claimed by the sea.
— I am the sea.
He sat upon the rolling deck
Half away from home,
And smoke a Capstan cigarette
And watched the blue wave tipped with foam.
He had a mermaid on his arm,
And anchor on his breast,
And tattooed on his back he had
A blue bird in a nest.
Away...
Away...
All I ask is take me to the sea,
Away from flickering nights and crowded streets,
To the sea,
To the sea...
— What are you running from?
— That was the first question they asked me when I decided to go to sea.
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining, I think a thought of the clef of the universes and of the future.
<...>
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages,
All identities I hat have existed or may exist on this globe, or any globe,
All lives and deaths, all of the past, present, future,
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann'd,
And shall forever span them and compactly hold and enclose them.
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