Back in the landlocked capital of Texas in Austin at the height of summer, I'm missing the ocean. Scanning through several videos of the sea taken recently from my phone.
New York Harbor from the Staten Island Ferry with accompanying coastguard gunboat.
A Staten Island Beach in the wintertime.
In Dublin, Ireland looking out at the Irish Sea from atop the Martello Tower Joyce museum in Sandycove.
The Cliffs of Moher in County Clare, western coast of Ireland.
The Burren in County Clare, western coast of Ireland.
View from Vico and Sorrento, Dalkey, county Dublin, Ireland.
The Giant's Causeway and the rough Atlantic Ocean in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.
The pristine sparkling blue Mediterranean outside of Marseille in Côte d'Azur, France.
Me swimming in the Mediterranean at a beach in Cannes, Côte d'Azur, France.
Off the coast of Massachusetts, Vineyard Ferry cruising along Atlantic Ocean.
The boat ride from Dalkey Island, Ireland.
"There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor" (Melville, Moby-Dick, p. 160)
"the blending cadence of waves with thoughts" (Moby-Dick, p. 163)
"Melville thought the names of all fine authors were fictitious because they stood for the ubiquitous and magic spirit of all Beauty. Keats asked to have HERE LIES ONE WHOSE NAME WAS WRIT IN WATER carved on his gravestone."
(Susan Howe, The Quarry, p. 192)
"The beginning of man was salt sea, and the perpetual reverberation of that great ancient fact, constantly renewed in the unfolding of life in every human individual, is the important single fact about Melville. Pelagic."
[Pelagic (adj.): relating to or living in open sea]
(from Charles Olson, Call Me Ishmael, quoted in Susan Howe, The Quarry, p. 192)
"Looking at the waves scudding outwards and getting lost on the horizon, [Heisenberg] could not help but recall the words of his mentor, the Danish physicist Niels Bohr, who had once told him that a part of eternity lies in reach of those capable of staring, unblinking, at the sea's deranging expanses."
(Benjamin Labatut, When We Cease to Understand the World, p. 96)