I must be the only player in the world who ever injured himself for a tournament by stepping on a shell on the beach. I don't know what I'm going to do.
Dermot Reeve was so self-obsessed that even on the local nudist beach he only admired himself
Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach.
There's something to be said for useless days. You know, those days when you have nothing to do and all day to do it. . . Trust me, a beach and a bottomless drink may not cure the world's problems but it can really get your head in the right place. Those are my favorite kind of days.
I've got two dogs - one's a Jack Russell and she's one year old now, and I've got another dog called Kanga, and I got him from a rescue shelter, and there's nothing I enjoy more than just walking them on the beach in Cape Town. I find that very destressing and very relaxing.
You can tell all you need to about a society from how it treats animals and beaches.
I knew he was unreliable, but he was fun to be with. He was a child’s ideal companion, full of surprises and happy animal energy. He enjoyed food and drink. He liked to try new things. He brought home coconuts, papayas, mangoes, and urged them on our reluctant conservative selves. On Sundays he liked to discover new places, take us on endless bus or trolley rides to some new park or beach he knew about. He always counseled daring, in whatever situation, the courage to test the unknown, an instruction that was thematically in opposition to my mother’s.
Everyone thinks footballers have it easy and at this time of year see loads of pictures of players relaxing on beaches and in bars but what they don't see is most of them will be doing their own fitness regimes. If you don't you will get back and you will be off the pace, might get injured and won't play football matches.
I have a home in Salt Lake, and I have a home in Malibu, at the beach.
We learned this week that Mitt Romney is building a car elevator in his house. An elevator for your cars. I get the feeling this guy wants to be president so he has a place to live while he's remodeling his beach house. . . . I'm not worried that this guy is out of touch. I'm worried he's Batman. I could see Mitt as Batman. He hears about a robbery, he changes into the magic underwear, he rushes to the crime scene, and he helps the crooks manage their new money.
I want the cheesy dates at the movies, the stupid walks at the beach and sharing straws in a cup
I'm always in Malibu, and I'm a big fan of surfing and stuff. I love the beach. Someday I will live on the beach.
To use Newton's words, our efforts up till this moment have but turned over a pebble or shell here and there on the beach, with only a forlorn hope that under one of them was the gem we were seeking. Now we have the sieve, the minds, the hands, the time, and, particularly, the dedication to find those gems-no matter in which favorite hiding place the children of distant worlds have placed them.
Miami’s like paradise. And I think the beaches are topless. So we’re gonna spend a lot of time at the beach.
The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.
The biggest part of painting perhaps is faith, and waiting receptively, content to go any way, not planning or forcing. The fear, though, is laziness. It is so easy to drift and finally be tossed up on the beach, derelict.
I don't know a lot of guys who started out as a hard rock and roller with a white stripe in their hair. Suddenly I do a TV movie and I wake up the next day and I'm a teen idol, like I'd laid on a beach in California all my life waiting for that to happen.
As a reader, I do not like to have everything handed to me. Because after a while it gets formulaic and I'm thinking, "If this is so thought through, then why do I need to read it. It's done!" It becomes a beach book at a certain point.
If I'm on location on some island, we usually get up at four in the morning to set up. By seven thirty, we're on the beach working until noon, then we rest. It's not exactly a vacation.
He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on.
