There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is not painful.
Fernando PessoaA war of ideas can no more be won without books than a naval war can be won without ships. Books, like ships, have the toughest armor, the longest cruising range, and mount the most powerful guns.
Franklin D. RooseveltTags: books ideas sailing ships boats
We clear the harbor and the wind catches her sails and my beautiful ship leans over ever so gracefully, and her elegant bow cuts cleanly into the increasing chop of the waves. I take a deep breath and my chest expands and my heart starts thumping so strongly I fear the others might see it beat through the cloth of my jacket. I face the wind and my lips peel back from my teeth in a grin of pure joy.
L.A. MeyerGet rid of their mast, knock holes in the hull, then get back on board."
"You want us to sink her?" Gundar asked, and Halt shook his head.
"No. I want her badly damaged but capable of making it back to port. I want the word to go out that the strange ship with the red falcon ensign"—he gestured to Evanlyn's ensign, flying from the mast top—"is manned by dangerous, hairy maniacs with axes and is to be avoided at all costs."
"That sounds like us," Gundar said cheerfully.
Tags: pirates ships ranger-s-apprentice skandians
Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction.
Clark ZlotchewTags: love adventure stories prostitution sex unrequited-love short-stories racism sexism ships segregation homophobia navy rite-of-passage savannah cuba 1950s adolescent-angst deep-south havana high-seas old-days political-intrigue short-story-collection
When they reached their ship, Ed gazed out at the bay. It was black. The sky was black, but the bay was even blacker. It was a slick, oily blackness that glowed and reflected the moonlight like a black jewel. Ed saw the tiny specks of light around the edges of the bay where he knew ships must be docked, and at different points within the bay where vessels would be anchored. The lights were pale and sickly yellow when compared with the bright blue-white sparkle of the stars overhead, but the stars glinted hard as diamonds, cold as ice. Pg. 26.
Clark ZlotchewTags: love adventure stories prostitution sex unrequited-love short-stories racism sexism ships segregation homophobia navy rite-of-passage savannah cuba 1950s adolescent-angst deep-south havana high-seas old-days political-intrigue short-story-collection
Only the ship is made of books, its sails thousands of overlapping pages, and the sea it floats upon is dark black ink.
Erin MorgensternTags: books ships the-night-circus
I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.
Nathan Reese MaherTags: life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.
Nathan Reese MaherTags: life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?”
She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?
Tags: life music shakespeare romance rain death dreams sex water science-fiction magic emily-dickinson amnesia sacrifice apocalypse songs empty ghosts greek-mythology gothic jazz poems ships reflections magick haunting waking piano damnation androids storms desolate masquerade abandoned tempest count spectre carrack cityisle cityspire fedora haunts horace-walpole mannequins phillip-k-dick puddles specters
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