The sea remains the last place to which you can run away.
Full fathom five thy father lies /
Of his bones are coral made /
Those are pearls that were his eyes /
Nothing of him that doth fade /
But doth suffer a sea-change /
Into something rich and strange.
Standing looking out to sea can be like standing at an altar. You wait in silence for some kind of benediction. If prayer could have a physical destination, this would be it.
I love the sea but the sea does not love me.
And when he came to the sea the water was quite purple and dark blue, and grey and thick, and no longer so green and yellow, but it was still quiet. And he stood there. Virginia Woolf