Research Paper On Seashells

The aroma of the salty ocean breeze dances around me. The ocean splashes onto the million small grains of sand while tickling the feet of the diverse people who travel among it. Music of the waves sing in perfect unison with sound of the natives playing their drums, their beautiful harmonies fill the resort while they wait for generous people with anything to spare. I look around and embrace every small detail, like the small sand crabs that scurry across my newly pedicured toes and the shattered shells that gouge into the bottoms of my feet. I find my way to the brightly colored hammocks filled with people reading the magazines filled with all the fake information about Justin Bieber and his new girlfriend, or the perfectly picked novel just

When people go on cruise trips, one of the reasons they intend to enjoy their time off is to experience the sights and sounds of the open sea. In Annie Dillard’s Mornings Like This, she includes in her collection of found poems a poem that instills a similar vivid sense of imagery that one would experience by the ocean. Her found poem, called “The Pathfinder of the Seas,” includes a variety of words and sentences that relate to sailing in the sea. They were extracted from other books related to scientific research of the sky and the sea. The author brings together these distinct elements and structures them in a poem. This gives them a new home and, subsequently, gives the work a new meaning. Her goal for the reader is to question their previous knowledge and find a new perspective on life through the interactions with the sea in her poem.

Looking for a place where you can easily post any of your random thoughts? Or do you simply just want to read blogs from other people and interact with with them? Scattered Seashells is a perfect website for you!

As I arose that morning, I enjoyed the sound of waves. I decided to go to Santa Rosa for my last day in the Channel Islands National Park. I took an early boat to this island. I was mournful that I couldn’t go to all five islands, but I knew that I can’t extend my trip.

Barnacles are usually found on hard surfaces and whales. it is found almost everywhere except by the poles. it is also able to attach two things like turtles and whales and other marine life. Most barnacles species are harmless.

The warm Florida heat beats my shoulders, and sweat drips down my spine. Large touristgroups gather together blocking the street, and their constant buzzing noise bombards my ears.As I take in the families swarming the sides of the streets, a rush of impatience shoots up myspine. The fragrance of kettlecorn wafted down the street. Flavorless saliva fills my mouth, andmy eyes devour the passing cart. Cameras flash at the families dolled up for a memorable familyphoto. A miraculous moment under the shade beckons my presence; however, a different gravitypulls me away. My eyes make contact with the looming iron gates welcoming me to the entranceof the mundane path, and there the cobblestone street splits off, curving its way through thegates. My

The ocean strokes land with calm and reassuring hands, lacing water with sand and lifting seashells in its wake. My heart urges me forward, to walk among the peace, to capture the sweet smell of sea salt. My brain reasons with the rest of my body. Turning sharply from the churning water I force my feet to leave the warm imprint they have grown to love

My cannonball was swiftly broken by what felt akin to silky bed sheets. The water had retained much of the heat from that early autumn day. It was heaven, but a heaven that would have to remain unseen. Almost caustic chlorine would besiege the eyes the moment they were not clamped shut. A hellfire was brewing in my lungs, inexorably propelling me upwards out of the inky depths.

Growing up, God is presented to us as a mystical being; a being that sees all and knows all. This idea of God is presented upon us by our parents and force fed to us through established churches. We grow up being told that there is a God, but the opposing idea is never presented to us, even as a possibility. What if there were no God? What if this entire idea of religion is just an established system of morals meant to make us better people, but how can we better people if the source of our morals are a lie?

Under the shade of the umbrellas, Gnaritusonians lay languidly on the beach recliners enjoying an unrivaled ocean view, listening to music, or reading a good book. At the same time, parents watched over their rambunctious children to ensure that they did not stray too far. The gusts of wind carried the merriment of the children across the sandy shore and far out to sea. Surina and Norval crunched along the soft, fine sand through a maze of beach umbrellas to the shore’s edge where the clear waters of the ocean lapped around and licked their black clogs. After traveling ten thousand light years across the Milky Way Galaxy, Surina had to pinch herself to make sure that she was indeed at the shoreline of a new world. She felt like a grain of sand that the powerful energy of the vast capricious ocean could swallow in an instant. However, the undulating waves and salty breeze whispered sweet messages of welcome and swept her into the ocean of endless possibilities. The foamy surf breathed promises onto the beach as well that any grain of sand could become a

Sponges. When we hear that word, most of us think of the crusty sponge sitting next to the sink. Well, what if I told you that there is an entire world of sponges that are living creatures at the bottom of the ocean? It's true, and I'm here to tell you about it.

The Warty Comb Jelly does not have many relationships, and they seem to be limited to eating and being eaten, as previously mentioned (see diet and life cycle

My parents and I happily trudged out of our chilled condo room, weighed down by various beach supplies. We made our way to the elevator, slowly but surely exiting the maze we call our condo hallways. As we glided down, floor after floor, we finally reached the parking garage. We stepped out of the elevator feeling a mix of humidity and heat immediately cling to our tan bodies. We exited the garage to find a beautiful scene. Birds were flying overhead as there were sun rays beating down against white, hot sand. We crossed the bridge that held shoes and scattered shells. After we did so, we pressed our feet against the white sand that belonged to Destin, Florida. The sight was even more alluring than I had ever imagined.

Since the dawn of history, people have passed on the belief that there is an outer worldly being who holds the power of the world. Whether it is Allah for the Muslims, Brahman for the Hindus, or God for Christians, it seems the notion of God is imbedded deep in the history of many different ethnicities and backgrounds. According to some studies a belief in a deity is innate, we are essentially hardwired to believe in God. Even from a young age we are taught “there is something more out there”, but is there? What proof is there? Has one every seen God? Is it ignorant to simply believe in something that has no proof? It is questions like these that has plagued and divided philosophers throughout the last century. From Plato and Aquinus, to Hume and Pascal, philosophers have quarreled over the justifications for God, some sticking to pure logic while others abide by their rigid religious upbringing. Though both sides have very convincing points rooted in tricky language and extensive webs of thought some philosophers have thought to take a different approach: fideism.

The clock ticked down as we had less than thirty minutes to find our way out of the labyrinth that we stumbled into. As we adventured further our once unscathed gleaming shoes became soiled as they dredged through the dense, sticky mud that now engulfed the path. A path once created with the type of gravel that crunches and crackles like a can being crushed. Naturally, every step lead farther out of familiarity, inching into an unfamiliar landscape. Furthermore, the probability of returning to the fluorescent tourist filled road dwindling. The maze we had stumbled upon threw us in a daze, as a result not a single speculation in our conscious minds on where we had landed ourselves. Twenty minutes were spent attempting to grasp where we concluded our travel in addition to settling our anxiety. Nonetheless, we were lost, as a result of countless deviations leaving us in a foreign location . The equanimity of the breeze from the Caribbean sea granted us the opportunity to recollect the memory of the detours we had chosen. To no avail, we were unable to unlock the portions of our memories containing the needed information. As I yanked out my cell phone with hopes of accessing my GPS, the greeting of a black screen with a flaming red depleted battery symbol beamed back. As I turned around to my friend only five hundred feet behind an unpleasant salty taste flooded my mouth from the sweat dribbling down from my now greasy blonde hair. I observed that is black hair had become matted