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:
“He stood bewildered, not appalled, on that dark shore which separates the ancient and the modern world.... He is power, passion, self-will personified.”
—William Hazlitt (1778–1830)
“Michelangelo said to Pope Julius II, “Self negation is noble, self-culture is beneficent, self-possession is manly, but to the truly great and inspiring soul they are poor and tame compared to self-abuse.” Mr. Brown, here, in one of his latest and most graceful poems refers to it in an eloquent line which is destined to live to the end of time—”None know it but to love it, None name it but to praise.””
—Mark Twain [Samuel Langhorne Clemens] (1835–1910)
“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)