Quotes About Adventure

The boat sped on through the sparkling ocean and into the promise of the moonlit night.

L'audace, I'audace, toujours l'audace! " Remember that, gentlemen. From here on out, until we win or die in the attempt, we will aways be audacious.

Nama'rie! Nai hiruvalye Valimar. Nai elye hiruva. Namarie! Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!

Wild excitements, misery, riches, debauchery, broken hearts, scurvy, frostbite, suicide, the midnight sun, the Arctic night, the Aurora Borealis, the land of gold and paradoxes--that was Dawson in '98,' he wrote breathlessly.

You are not just going to vanish like this, Karou. This isn't some goddamn Narnia book.

Once upon a time, a girl lived in a sandcastle, making monsters to send through a hole in the sky.

Be a Samurai. Because you just never know what's behind the freaking sky.

Let's just get this out of the way so I can relax. Karou, your friends aren't going to eat us, are they?" No, Karou thought. They are not. She whispered back, "I don't think so. But try not to look delicious, okay?

It was a different life out here, but make no mistake: Lazlo was every bit the dreamer he had always been, if not more. He might have left his books, but he carried all his stories with him.

If this were a book or movie, she thought, she'd be able to read the stars and get her bearings. Characters always had just the right random skill set to master the situation at hand. Like, Thank god for that summer on an uncle's smuggling boat and the handsome deckhand who taught me celestial navigation. Ha.

Once upon a time… A journey began, that would stitch all the worlds together with light.

Infinities are not for casual exploration. You could fall and keep falling. You could get lost.

Get out of doors, Strange. Breathe air, see things. A man should have squint lines from looking at the horizon, not just from reading in dim light.

I've seen other universes. I've been to them. And I destroyed them.

There were no books to hide behind, and no shadows—only Lazlo Strange in his worn gray robes, with his nose that had been broken by fairy tales, looking like the hero of no story ever told. Or. No story yet told.

I'm not looking for fate. I'm seventeen. I'm looking for kissing, and to move forward a few paces on the game board. You know, do some Living. (With my lips.)

I want to do mysterious and improbable things alongside a fierce and beautiful girl who looks like a doll brought to life by a sorcerer.

On the second Sabbat of Twelfthmoon, in the city of Weep, a girl fell from the sky.

What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.

How often did this happen to people, this not knowing where in the world you were?

He had crossed continents and drunk starlight from rivers without names. There was no going back from that.

Karou had things to do. Sometimes they took a few hours; other times, she was gone for days and returned weary and disheveled, maybe pale, maybe sunburned, or with a limp, or possibly a bite mark, and once with an unshakable fever that had turned out to be malaria.

All evening long, real snow would fall from the ceiling to glitter on the lashes of dancing girls and ardent boys, but Neve and the Dreamer didn't linger. They had other things to do: *all* of them. All the things, dreamed and undreamed, in the depth and breadth of the whole spinning world.

I met an angel in Morocco and all I got were these lousy scars.