I was born in Riverside and spent my whole growing-up years in Florence, a little township on the Delaware River. I tell people that I'm from the West Coast of New Jersey.
I really think that the 'Jersey Boys' musical - and this is just my opinion - lends itself to being cinematic in some way, because it's a jukebox musical; the characters break into song only for the scene transitions.
My goal had been to win a championship, work toward the Hall of Fame, have my jersey retired by the team and I'd go in as a lifelong New York Giant, but I'm now resigned to the fact that this won't happen.
A man does not make his destiny: he accepts it or denies it.
I do not care what comes after; I have seen the dragons on the wind of morning.
He was the ocean and I was the sand, i lived content in stillness and he washed a shore everytime, as a better man.
The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory.
Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.
Who says Australia offers not a home for every poor Englishman, or any other countryman that finds his way to our shores? And what sort of thanks do we get for it?
There are Mafia families that have bought magnificent houses on the North Shore, although not yet the great estates because they don't want that kind of high profile.
My dream is to one day own a country house on the shore in England, have gotten married, wipe some debt off and get a few more good films.
The Baltic Sea is becoming more and more polluted. Not everybody living near the shore of the Baltic Sea is protecting it. It is the water of life for countries like Finland and Sweden.
I could, as a free man, look across the bay toward the Eastern Shore where I was born a slave.
Grey rocks, and greyer sea, And surf along the shore -- And in my heart a name My lips shall speak no more.
Commerce flourishes by circumstances, precarious, transitory, contingent, almost as the winds and waves that bring it to our shores.
Aimlessly It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No One listens to poetry. — from "Thing Language
The 6th of August in the morning we saw an opening in the land and we ran into it, and anchored in 7 and a half fathom water, 2 miles from the shore, clean sand.
Sometimes it's good to let people swim in ocean of ignorance and let them struggle to the shores of enlightenment.
So in this Hemisphere when the moon goes down, I sit in one of those all-night-into-mornings cafes, watching short short skies below the skyscrapers and low-rises and sense the big turntables turning and the roadies setting up from stadium to stadium...
The distant sea, lapping the sandy shore with measured sound; the nearer cries of the donkey-boys; the unusual scenes moving before her like pictures, which she cared not in her laziness to have fully explained before they passed away; the stroll dow...
The foolishness of chasing the moon ached my heart. I was stuck between the moon and the shore and surrounded by an empty sea.
