Boston, Boston, Boston! Thou hast naught to
boast on, But a Grand Sluice,
and a high steeple; c.1500 A proud conceited ignorant people, And a coast where
souls are lost on. Anonymous Comment by visitor at the opening of the Grand
Lincolnshire,15 Oct. Quoted in Jennifer Westwood Albion (1985), ch.
'People can't die, along the coast,'said Mr Peggotty, 'except when the
tide's pretty nigh out. They can't be born, unless it's
pretty nigh innot properly born, till flood. He's a going
out with the tide.' CharlesJohn Huffam Dickens ^50 On the death of Barkis. David Copperfield, ch.30.
The Europeans have scarcely visited any coast, but
to gratify avarice,
and extend corruption; to arrogate dominion without
right, and practice cruelty without incentive But
there isreason to hopethat the light of the gospel will at
last illuminate the sands of Africa, and the deserts of America, though its
progress cannot but be slow when it is
so much obstructed by the lives of Christians. Samuel known as Dr Johnson Johnson Introduction to The World Displayed.
And the three men I admired most, The Father, Son and
Holy Ghost, They caught the
last train for the coast The day the music
died. Don McLean 'American Pie'.
Politics is just like show businessa hell of an opening, you coast for a
while, you have a hell of a closing. Ronald Wilson Reagan In the NewYorkTimes, 23 Apr.
Now hang it! quoth I, as I look'd towards the French
coasta man should
know something of his own country too, before
he goes abroad. Laurence Sterne ^67 Tristram.Tristram Shandy, bk.7, ch.2.
'Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the land, 'This mounting wave
will roll us shoreward soon.' In the afternoon
they came unto a land In which it seeme'
d always afternoon. All round the coast
the languid air did swoon, Ulysses Breathing like one that hath a weary
dream. Tennyson Poems,'The Lotos^Eaters', l.1^6.
It is little
I repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though my own red
roses there may blow; It is little I
repair to the matches of the Southron folk, Though the red
roses crest the caps, I know. For the field is
full of shades as I near theshadowy coast, And a ghostly
batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, And I look through
my tears on a soundless-clapping host As the run-stealers
flicker to and fro, To and fro: O my Hornby and my
Barlow long ago! Francis Thompson 'At Lord's', poem dedicated to friends to explain
why he could not attend a
match at Lord's at their invitation for fear of the sadness it would
cause him, remembering the long-dead friends who had
played there (for Lancashire) back in1878.