Ships Are Safe In Harbor Quotes

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. —John A. Shedd

A ship at harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are for.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for

A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not where ships belong.

A ship in harbor is safe. But that is not what ships are built for. -John A. Shedd

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not why ships were built.

Consider a lighthouse. It stands on the shore with its beckoning light, guiding ships safely into the harbor. The lighthouse can't uproot itself, wade out into the water, grab the ship by the stern and say, "Listen, you fool! If you stay on this path you may break up on the rocks!" No. The ship has some responsibility for its own destiny. It can choose to be guided by the lighthouse. Or, it can go its own way. The lighthouse is not responsible for the ship's decisions. All it can do is be the best lighthouse it knows how to be.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. —John A. Shedd

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.—John A. Shedd

They were all growing so fast. In just a few short years they would be all young men and women...youth tiptoe...expectant...a-star with its sweet wild dreams...little ships sailing out of safe harbor to unknown ports. The boys would go away to their life work and the girls...ah, the mist-veiled forms of beautiful brides might be seen coming down the old stairs at Ingleside. But they would still be hers for a few years yet...hers to love and guide...to sing the songs that so many mothers had sung...Hers...and Gilbert's.

A ship in the harbor is safe, but that's not what ships are built for. ~ John Augustus Shedd

A ship is safe in the harbor, but that’s not what ships are made for.

Though the harbor is safe, ships were made to sail the sea. The same can be said for you and me.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.

The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which some volcanic shock has made between the Calasareigne and Jaros islands; had doubled Pomegue, and approached the harbor under topsails, jib, and spanker, but so slowly and sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which is the forerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could have happened on board. However, those experienced in navigation saw plainly that if any accident had occurred, it was not to the vessel herself, for she bore down with all the evidence of being skilfully handled, the anchor a-cockbill, the jib-boom guys already eased off, and standing by the side of the pilot, who was steering the Pharaon towards the narrow entrance of the inner port, was a young man, who, with activity and vigilant eye, watched every motion of the ship, and repeated each direction of the pilot.

A ship is safe in harbor, but that is not what ships are for.  William GT Shedd (1820 -94)

A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for. – William G.T. Shedd

If I try by myself to swim across the ocean of this world, the waves will certainly engulf me. In order to survive I must climb aboard a ship made of wood; this wood is the Cross of Christ. Of course, even on board ship there will be dangerous tempests and perils from the sea of this world. But God will help me remain on board the ship and arrive safely at the harbor of eternal life.” - St. Augustine

...the lighthouse, as a symbol, made no sense. Someone had declared it a Christian beacon of some sort, but a lighthouse wasn't something that led you to a safe harbor, a lighthouse was something that you avoided at all costs, a lighthouse was something you stayed away from lest you and your ship be dashed on the rocks. The most perverse message a lighthouse could ever deliver is come here and be saved.

When we pillow our heads at night, we need to have things that give us peace. Many such things are available, but one of the best is the simple peace of knowing that we've done things that day that were not easy for us to do. If we can see ourselves as people who are learning little by little to master the hard parts of life, we will live with a greater confidence and be able to serve those around us more helpfully. The ancient adage is true which tells us, "A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.

I belong to myself. Always. Eternally. Without question. My own safe house. My own sheltered harbor. I am my own solid ground. I am the lighthouse beacon. I call the ships safely home from sea. I am the North Star and the compass. I am my own port in the wildest storm. I am the spell caster and the spell breaker. I am a witch of alchemy and transformation. I am the pages in the grimoire of knowledge, I am the source of all the magic ever known. I am the kiss that wakes us all from slumber. I am the white horse knight in shining armor. I am my own happily ever after fairytale godmother. I am my own rest stop on the longest journey of living. The final destination on every treasure map I will ever need. I am my own primary relationship, my own till death do us part. I am my own center and saving grace, my own best-kept secret. I am the lineage of wisdom itself, the home of my own belonging. I am my own. And my own. And always my own.

A great civilization lived on Midgard long before the Asteri conquered it.” He could have sworn she sounded sad. “One that prized knowledge in all its forms. So much so that a hundred thousand humans marched at Parthos to save these books from the Asteri and Vanir who came to burn them.” She shook her head, face distant. “A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like? A hundred thousand men and women marched to defend a library—it sounds like a bad joke these days.” Her eyes blazed. “But they fought, and they died. All to buy the library priestesses enough time to smuggle the books out on ships. The Vanir armies intercepted most of them, and the priestesses were burned, their precious books used as kindling. But one ship …” Her lips curved upward. “The Griffin. It slipped through the Vanir nets. Sailed across the Haldren and found safe harbor in Valbara.” Ithan slowly shook his head. “How do you know all this, when no one else does?” “The mer know some of it,” she hedged. “The mer aided the Griffin across the sea, at the behest of the Ocean Queen.

Later that day, at about five-thirty P.M., Harriman met with Secretary of State Cordell Hull, who was also suffering from a cold and looked tired. The two discussed the broader naval situation, in particular the threat to Singapore posed by the rising power and aggression of Japan. The U.S. Navy had no plans to interfere, Hull told him, but he personally believed that the navy should deploy some of its most powerful ships to the waters of the Dutch East Indies in a display of force, in the hopes—as Harriman paraphrased his remarks—“that by bluff the Japs could be kept within bounds.” By sitting back, Hull said, America risked the “ignominious result” of having Japan seize key strategic points in the Far East, while America kept its ships safely moored at their big Pacific base. Obviously tired and befogged by his cold, Hull could not for the moment remember its exact location. “What is the name of that harbor?” Hull asked. “Pearl Harbor,” Harriman said. “Yes,” Hull said.

The state of New Hampshire boasts a mere eighteen miles of Atlantic Ocean coastline. The Piscataqua River separates the state's southeastern corner from Maine and empties into the Atlantic. On the southwestern corner of this juncture of river and ocean is Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The smaller town of Kittery, Maine, is on the opposite side of the river. The port of Piscataqua is deep, and it never freezes in winter, making it an ideal location for maritime vocations such as fishing, sea trade, and shipbuilding. Four years before the founding of Jamestown, Virginia, in 1603, Martin Pring of England first discovered the natural virtues of Piscataqua harbor. While on a scouting voyage in the ship Speedwell, Pring sailed approximately ten miles up the unexplored Piscataqua, where he discovered “goodly groves and woods replenished with tall oakes, beeches, pine-trees, firre-trees, hasels, and maples.”1 Following Pring, Samuel de Champlain, Captain John Smith, and Sir Ferdinando Gorges each sailed along the Maine-New Hampshire coastline and remarked on its abundance of timber and fish. The first account of Piscataqua harbor was given by Smith, that intrepid explorer, author, and cofounder of the Jamestown settlement, who assigned the name “New-England” to the northeast coastline in 1614. In May or June of that year, he landed near the Piscataqua, which he later described as “a safe harbour, with a rocky shore.”2 In 1623, three years after the Pilgrim founding of Plymouth, an English fishing and trading company headed by David Thomson established a saltworks and fishing station in what is now Rye, New Hampshire, just west of the Piscataqua River. English fishermen soon flocked to the Maine and New Hampshire coastline, eventually venturing inland to dry their nets, salt, and fish. They were particularly drawn to the large cod population around the Piscataqua, as in winter the cod-spawning grounds shifted from the cold offshore banks to the warmer waters along the coast.

Death is a friend we have not met, a voice we have not heard, a face we have not seen. Death is a slipping away, a going beyond a stepping through. It is a fading, as light slips from the sky at dusk, tenderly, and with a silent beauty. It is a leaf caught in the current, too far for us to reach from shore. It is a ship setting sail at dawn, to lands we do not know, and with friends we cannot follow. It is a bird set free from a cage, flying one last flight across our horizon before we lose it to the clouds. Death is the fall of a rose, the drop of a sparrow, the sigh of a barren bough. It is a letting go, a quieting of fear, and a haven from pain. Death is a coming home after a long journey. It is a safe harbor after many storms, and a sweet quiet rest after great labor. Death is a road we have not walked. a place we have not seen, a friend we have not met. It is a going and a coming, a departure, and an arrival. an end and a beginning.

A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” -William G.T. Shedd

We the living planet, Sophie! We the great vessel sailing around a burning sun in the universe. But each and one of us is also a ship sailing through life with a cargo of genes. When we have carried this cargo safely to the next harbor- we have not lived in vain.

A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for. William G.T. Shedd

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. John A. Shedd

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for. JOHN A. SHEDD, AUTHOR

Ships are safe at Harbor, but that's what they aren't meant for.

The Chronicle published passenger lists of the returnees, while The Examiner did not shrink from describing the casualties of war: They came back to the mainland yesterday, the maimed and the blinded – the first war casualties to arrive from Hawaii.  Convoyed transports brought them.  And brought to San Francisco and the Nation, the horror and full impact of Japan’s treacherous Pearl Harbor attack. They jammed the ship (sic) hospitals, overflowed into staterooms.              There were men hideously burned by explosions.  There were fracture cases.

Ships in harbor are safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.

A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are built for.” -John A. Shedd

In traditional thought, a port is a safe harbor from storms… but to ship agents, the beauty of a port IS the storm! To survive a storm though, one must live in the Now always keeping Shiva’s third eye open

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.

No Portuguese ships occupied the harbor when Magellan arrived, and he felt safe enough to drop anchor.

A ship may bob, safe at harbor, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t experienced the wide world—or won’t again.

A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not whaht ships are meant for.' This is what they're meant for, this feeling right here. And maybe...maybe it's what hearts are meant for too.

A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are meant for.' This is what they're meant for, this feeling right here. And maybe...maybe it's what hearts are meant for too.

a ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are for” is a cliché, but it is a beautiful one.

Bryce swallowed the dryness in her mouth. “I came back here to help everyone, not to abandon them to the mercy of the Asteri.” “Perhaps Urd sent you to that other world to establish a safe harbor. Have you considered that?” Bryce exploded, “What was all this for, then? The stealth, the ships, the Ophion contacts? What the fuck was it for if you just want to run away from the Asteri in the end?” Eyes blacker than the Melinoë Trench pinned her to the spot. “Do not dare question my dedication, girl. I have fought and sacrificed for this world when no one else would. Once, my kingdom was vaster than you can imagine—but the Asteri came, and entire islands withered into the sea in despair, taking the very heart of this world with it. The very heart of the mer, too. If there is anyone who understands how futile it is to stand against the Asteri, it is I.

A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” – John A. Shedd

We keep our ships safely in the harbor, shielded from the storm. But in doing so, we will never discover new worlds.

A ship is safe in the harbor, but that's not what ships are for...

A ship in the harbor is safe. But that is not what ships are for.

And though god-resembling Vidvoyos believes that his name will also last, who knows what will happen after we are dead? With the passage of time, many a city will add the names of its heroes to our achievement and leave out ours. And this will go on and on until, at last, everything is changed so that even we, the seafarers who took part in this journey, would fail to recognize our actions or adventures or indeed ourselves. But why worry about such things when we are mortal and, in the end, we must return to dust? How sleepy I am! All night I peered into the darkness like a fool, fearing to see those hostile Phoenicians while they no doubt slept upon their comfortable beds in their safe harbors, utterly unaware of us, the immortal heroes whose homeland awaits us with certain death! Enough! Farewell to you, my hero, who has seen the fleece of gold!

I never dreamed I’d find a woman as perfectly suited for me as she is. Alexa loves the color green, but not just any green. It’s a mint green—a sea foam green. The shade suits her well because she has always reminded me of the sea. She is calm like the ocean waves. She is a constant source of light, like a lighthouse. She is hard-working, like a ship in the middle of a storm. She is a safe harbor. She is a bright horizon. And I want to sail into the sunset with her.

It may be thou art a poor trembling soul, thy faith is weak, and thy assaults from Satan strong, thy corruptions stirring and active, and thy mortifying strength little, so that in thy opinion they rather gain ground on thy grace, than give ground to it.  Ever and anon thou art ready to think thou shalt be cast as a wreck upon the devil's shore; and yet to this day thy grace lives, though full of leaks.  Now is it not worth the stepping aside to see this strange sight?  A broken ship with masts and hull rent and torn, thus towed along by almighty power through an angry sea, and armadas of sins and devils, safely into its harbor.  To see a poor dilling or rush-candle in the face of the boisterous wind, and not blown out!  In a word, to see a weak stripling in grace held up in God’s arms till he beats the devil craven!  This God is doing in up holding thee.  Thou art one of those babes, out of whose mouth God is perfecting his praise, by ordaining such strength for thee, that thou, a babe in grace, shalt yet foil a giant in wrath and power.

I like to write, direct, and act... But, i would always volunteer to be an extra in a film if an extra person were needed. Sometimes you are the writer, sometimes you are the star, and other times just the person passing through a scene... Either way, its all important! Quotes from fortune-cookies that I often reflect upon: "Don't be afraid of opposition; remember, a kite rises against the wind" - "A man who trims himself to suit everybody will soon whittle himself away" - "A ship in harbor is safe, but that's not why ships are built" Integrity - It has all to do, with what you do, when no one is looking... It matters most, when you are alone, and away from the human microscope. Bullies, will exist for as long as you do... They don't simply vanish after high school is over, and the age bracket for these type of weak people doesn't have a cut off. Sometimes, there is no rhyme or reason as to why they are doing it, its just a terrible thing that is done too often, and in many cases for too long... But... To beat them - you have to better you! Stop listening to others who are either trying to talk you out of doing something you love, or are belittling you to think differently about it... If what you are going after isn't hurting anyone or anything in the process, and it will further define you, find ways to ignore them. I'd like to die satisfied, not old or rich, but satisfied with Jason J. Tavares... Pleased to have been the man, and to have walked in his shoes.

the Venezuelan government had given Bosch safe haven in Caracas while he was a fugitive from the United States Government. (He had left the country while on parole after serving time for firing a bazooka at a Polish ship that was docked in Miami Harbor while en route to Cuba.)

My father would prefer I go to Ranhatta, but I want to see what tropical waters are like. I hear there are reefs you can just walk out to, as colorful as a rainbow." "You'll have to tell me all about it," Ariel said with a touch of jealousy. "I thought you would come along and lead our ship into safe harbors," he said, tweaking her nose. "Maybe. Mer move slower than human ships, and mer kings slowest of all." "So is there a chance? That we could ever be together? Forever?" Eric asked, trying not to sound childish. Trying not to sound desperate. It was adorable. "There is always a chance," Ariel said, kissing him on the cheek. "And each day, it looks better and better.

Some may wonder why General Authorities speak of the same things from conference to conference. As I study the utterances of the prophets through the centuries, their pattern is very clear. . . . "Prophets say the same things because we face basically the same problems. Brothers and sisters, the solutions to these problems have not changed. It would be a poor lighthouse that gave off a different signal to guide every ship entering a harbor. It would be a poor mountain guide who, knowing the safe route up a mountainside, took his trusting charges up unpredictable and perilous paths from which no traveler returns