Virginia Woolf: The Waves, first paragraph

“The sun had not yet risen. The sea was indistinguishable from the sky, except that the sea was slightly creased as if a cloth had wrinkles in it. Gradually as the sky whitened a dark line lay on the horizon dividing the sea from the sky and the grey cloth became barred with thick strokes moving, one after another, beneath the surface, following each other, pursuing each other, perpetually.”

Aeschylus: Prometheus Bound, 431-435 (Chorus of the Daughters of Oceanus)

“And the waves of the sea utter a cry as they fall, the deep laments, the black abyss of Hades rumbles in response, and the streams of pure-flowing rivers lament thy piteous pain.”

(Translation: Herbert Weir Smyth, Harvard-Heinemann, 1922)