Beach Quotes
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..for the dead fish was striped like a cat and the sky was striped like the fish and the conch was whorled like an ear and the beach was ribbed like a dog's mouth and the movables in the surf splintered and crashed like the walls of Jericho.
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I still love things that you don't even need to pay for. Going to the beach and being around five of your friends and having a good time means so much more than going out and spending hundreds of dollars.
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I have two houses in California, and they're both within a couple of minutes from the beach. So, I definitely feel at home in California and by the ocean.
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California to me as a concept or as an idea always seems like endless optimism and endless opportunity - when people think of California they think of palm trees and blue skies and gorgeous sunsets and beaches and everything else.
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I like getting a tan, so if I'm lying on the beach, I want to get as much skin out as possible.
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I was born in Orange, California and I grew up in Huntington Beach. I started skateboarding when I was five and continued to do so off and on over the years.
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I think I've learned a lot just from being in the industry in general, and I never really thought about what to put in my hair to get a perfect beach wave until I started modeling. People will use certain products on me, and I learn that way.
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I spent loads of time in Scotland as a kid. My dad would take us back up to Aberdeen loads, and I have very fond memories of getting chips from his favourite chippy and heading down to the beach to eat Baskin Robbins ice cream.
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A lot of my buddies also played golf, but when it came to going to the beach or on the boat and chasing girls, they usually went that way and I went to the golf course.
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I think it's a very old and deep-seated double standard that holds that when a man writes about family and feelings, it's literature with a capital L, but when a woman considers the same topics, it's romance, or a beach book - in short, it's something unworthy of a serious critic's attention.
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Between planning family vacations and running away for novel-writing retreats, I've spent much of my adult life questing for the perfect beach escape, renting cottages all along the Florida Gulf and up and down the Atlantic Coast - as far north as Nags Head, as far south as Key West.
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For summer, I definitely love doing stuff outside. I love beach volleyball if you're close to something like that. It's really fun; you can do it with a lot of friends.
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If I was on an island, just for melody, I would take albums by the Stones, AC/DC and the Beach Boys' Smiley Smile.
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They eat the dainty food of famous chefs with the same pleasure with which they devour gross peasant dishes, mostly composed of garlic and tomatoes, or fisherman's octopus and shrimps, fried in heavily scented olive oil on a little deserted beach.
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My only failure was the restaurant in Myrtle Beach. I kept it open for four years. It was in a tourist town, it was only busy four and half, five months of the year. But the bills kept coming all year.
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Donald Trump was in a tuxedo, standing next to his award: a statue of a palm tree, as tall as a toddler. It was 2010, and Trump was being honored by a charity - the Palm Beach Police Foundation - for his 'selfless support' of its cause. His support did not include any of his own money.
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Here's my definition of a great beach read - a fabulous story that sucks me in like a black hole and when it's over, it jettisons my bones across the galaxy with a hair on fire mission to convince everyone I know that they must read that book or they will die.
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I enjoyed growing up part of my life in Virginia Beach. We had the ocean and the beach and a beautiful landscape. We were outdoors all the time and we played outside.
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Along the beach I never collected shells from my father's shore.
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I've never been one to run around in Speedos on the beach.
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I didn't have a pool growing up, and we went to the beach to lay out and get sun.
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I like a real beach. A crowded one, you know? People, towels, umbrellas. I hate those little private strips of sand you see up in Malibu.
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Have you never, when waves were breaking, watched children at sport on the beach, With their little feet tempting the foam-fringe, till with stronger and further reach Than they dreamed of, a billow comes bursting, how they turn and scamper and screech!
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She walked on, comforted by the surf, by the one perpetual moment of beach-time, the now-and-always of it.
