Quotes About Adventure

The taste for books was an early one. As a child he was sometimes found at midnight by a page still reading. They took his taper away, and he bred glow-worms to serve his purpose. They took the glow-worms away and he almost burnt the house down with a tinder.

She belonged to a different age, but being so entire, so complete, would always stand up on the horizon, stone-white, eminent, like a lighthouse marking some past stage on this adventurous, long, long voyage, this interminable --- this interminable life.

And yet, the only exciting life is the imaginary one.

Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world.

I ransack public libraries, and find them full of sunk treasure.

Whenever you see a board up with Trespassers will be prosecuted, trespass at once.

There is no stability in this world. Who is to say what meaning there is in anything? Who is to foretell the flight of a word? It is a balloon that sails over tree-tops. To speak of knowledge is futile. All is experiment and adventure. We are forever mixing ourselves with unknown quantities. What is to come? I know not. But, as I put down my glass I remember; I am engaged to be married. I am to dine with my friends tonight. I am Bernard.

Look here Vita — throw over your man, and we'll go to Hampton Court and dine on the river together and walk in the garden in the moonlight and come home late and have a bottle of wine and get tipsy, and I'll tell you all the things I have in my head, millions, myriads — They won't stir by day, only by dark on the river. Think of that. Throw over your man, I say, and come.

For the young people could not talk. And why should they? Shout, embrace, swing, be up at dawn...

What a lark! What a plunge!

Let us go, then, exploring, this summer morning, when all are adoring the plum blossom and the bee.

The journey is everything. Most necessary of all, but rarest good fortune, we should try to find some man of our own sort who will go with us and to whom we can say the first thing that comes into our heads. For pleasure has no relish unless we share it.

For if it is rash to walk into a lion's den unarmed, rash to navigate the Atlantic in a rowing boat, rash to stand on one foot on top of St. Paul's, it is still more rash to go home alone with a poet.

To upset everything every 3 or 4 years is my notion of a happy life.

I addressed my self as one would speak to a companion with whom one is voyaging to the North Pole.

Her horizon seemed to her limitless. There were all the places she had not seen;

Why, if one wants to compare life to anything, one must liken it to being blown through the Tube at fifty miles an hour - landing at the other end without a single hairpin in one's hair!

When shall we be free? When shall we live adventurously, wholly, not like cripples in a cave?

For if it is rash to walk into a lion's den unarmed, rash to navigate the Atlantic in a rowing boat, rash to stand on one foot on the top of St Paul's, it is still more rash to go home alone with a poet. A poet is Atlantic and lion in one. While one drowns us the other gnaws us. If we survive the teeth, we succumb to the waves. A man who can destroy illusions is both beast and flood.

Neste mundo não existe estabilidade. Quem será capaz de exprimir o significado das coisas? Quem pode prever o voo que uma palavra descreve depois de dita? É um balão que plana sobre as árvores. E o esforço de conhecer é sempre inútil. Tudo é experiência e aventura. Constantemente formamos novas combinações de elementos desconhecidos. O que está para vir?

We carry with us the wonders we seek without us; there is all Africa and her prodigies in us.

To speak of knowledge is futile. All is experiment and adventure. We are forever mixing ourselves with unknown quantities. What is to come? I know not.

I shall be a clinger to the outsides of worlds all my life.

Stepping through fields of flowers and taking to her breast buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen; with the stars in her eyes and the wind in her hair— He took her bag.