Shore Line East (SLE) is a commuter rail service which operates along the Northeast Corridor through southern Connecticut, USA. A fully owned subsidiary of the Connecticut Department of Transportation (ConnDOT), SLE provides service seven days a week along the Northeast Corridor from New London west to New Haven, with limited through service to Bridgeport and Stamford. Connecting service west of New Haven to New York City is available via Metro-North Railroad's New Haven Line.
The service was introduced in 1990 as a temporary measure to reduce congestion during construction work on I-95. However, it proved more popular than expected, and service was continued after construction ended despite criticisms that the line was too expensive to operate. The service has been continually upgraded since its inception with rebuilt stations and new rolling stock as well as extensions to New London in 1996 and to Stamford in 2001.
Read more about Shore Line East: Current Service, Rolling Stock, Station Stops
Famous quotes containing the words shore, line and/or east:
“We saw by the flitting clouds, by the first russet tinge on the hills, by the rushing river, the cottages on shore, and the shore itself, so coolly fresh and shining with dew, and later in the day, by the hue of the grape-vine, the goldfinch on the willow, the flickers flying in flocks, and when we passed near enough to the shore, as we fancied, by the faces of men, that the fall had commenced.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Writing fiction has developed in me an abiding respect for the unknown in a human lifetime and a sense of where to look for the threads, how to follow, how to connect, find in the thick of the tangle what clear line persists. The strands are all there: to the memory nothing is ever really lost.”
—Eudora Welty (b. 1909)
“A puff of wind, a puff faint and tepid and laden with strange odours of blossoms, of aromatic wood, comes out the still night—the first sigh of the East on my face. That I can never forget. It was impalpable and enslaving, like a charm, like a whispered promise of mysterious delight.... The mysterious East faced me, perfumed like a flower, silent like death, dark like a grave.”
—Joseph Conrad (1857–1924)