Sentences with phrase «looked upon the sea»

I looked upon the sea.

Not exact matches

We can emotionally embrace the knowledge that God is like the sea beneath the sun — he always changes as we look out upon him, but in fact he never changes.

The merman has lifted her up in his arms, Agnes twines about his neck, with her whole soul she trustingly abandons herself to the stronger one; he already stands upon the brink, he leans over the sea, about to plunge into it with his prey — then Agnes looks at him once more, not timidly, not doubtingly, not proud of her good fortune, not intoxicated by pleasure, but with absolute faith in him, with absolute humility, like the lowly flower she conceived herself to be; by this look she entrusts to him with absolute confidence her whole fate — and, behold, the sea roars no more, its voice is mute, nature's passion which is the merman's strength leaves him in the lurch, a dead calm ensues — and still Agnes continues to look at him thus.

He also warned: And there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars; and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and the waves roaring; Men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.

And the people of Israel Yahweh looked down upon the went into the midst of the sea host of the Egyptians.

Dante establishes this principle at the outset of the Paradiso, when in gazing upon Beatrice, he is «transhumanized» so that he may eventually be capable of looking upon God: «Gazing at her, I felt myself becoming / what Glaucus had become tasting the herb / that made him like the other sea - gods there.»

Nay, we look yet all the same, all dull and soiled, reeking, worn threadbare upon our elbows, while the freemen and their ladies nearly dance upon the Breidafjord rocks, flaunting all their finest, thickest woolens, their boots of fur and leather, their cloaks of seal, reindeer skins, and sometimes even bear with claws, all cheered and tucked and warm, set about to face the sea's fierce chill.

On foggy days, drive here to find the sunshine and look down upon a sea of mist.

Heading south toward Mendocino, you'll come upon Glass Beach, one of California's most extraordinary finds: polished bits of sea glass fill the beach (look but don't take).

Look out upon the stunning Arabian Sea or magnificent Palm Island and Dubai skyline.

I could stop playing the main campaign whenever I wanted, and simply explore the seas and the land that I stumbled upon as an adventurer looking to line his pockets.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

The choice of works is very deliberate with the exhibition broken down into seven themes: Beauty, Power and Space, which looks at each artist's engagement with the sublime, a theme central to English Romantic art but which survived through the modernist movement and is a key feature of Twombly's paintings; Atmosphere, which considers the ways in which the three artists paint land and sea through a filter of atmospheric conditions; Naught so Sweet as Melancholy, named after a phrase in Robert Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, where the theme of loss and memorialisation are central concerns; The Seasons which reflects upon the passage of time; Fire and Water where all three artists evince the power of the elements; The Vital Force which brings together works of a sensual or erotic nature; and finally A Floating World where each artist contemplates mortality and external events that impact on their lives.

If we looked at only the ONI to determine changes in El Nino / La Nina frequency it would be misleading because that indicator is based upon a baseline that shifts; that baseline is determined from the very sea surface temperatures that would change if El Nino / La Nina become more dominant.