Anne Morrow Lindberg

Rollers on the beach, wind in the pines, the slow flapping of herons across the sand dunes, frown out the hectic rhythms of city and suburb, time tables and schedules. One falls under their spell, relaxes, stretches out prone. One becomes, in fact, like the element on which one lies, flattened by the sea; bare, open, empty as the beach, erased by today’s tides of all yesterday’s scribblings. – Anne Morrow Lindberg, The Gift from the Sea