Quotes About Adventure

My name is Jack Reacher," I said. "No middle name. No address.

North Carolina Badlands

women passengers

Nobody would dare do that.

fifty feet above the rocks. The wind

They were in flat empty country and she eased the silent car faster down a dead-straight road. The hot sky was tinted bottle-green by the windshield.

Attacking me was like pushing open a forbidden door. What waited on the other side was his problem. His risk. If he didn't like it, he shouldn't have pushed open the damn door.

Never count on anything except surprise and unpredictability and danger. Ring doorbells with your knuckles or elbows to avoid leaving fingerprints.

name. "Jack Reacher

He won't come here. We'll have to go to San Francisco." "Like it's still 1967." "What?" Reacher said, "Nothing.

window. Reacher

that. There were some turns left and right, and there were some small stands of trees here and there, and there were

It was very common then. It was a bad time, and a bad area. We found that out, later. Either our guide didn't know, or didn't care. We found out that there were more than twenty people killed on that route in a year. For fun. Some of them in horrible ways. Raoul was lucky, just to be shot. Some of them, their screams could be heard for miles, across the desert, in the darkness. Some of the girls were carried away and never seen again.

18. Nunca vuelvas atrás

I wanted miles to travel and absolutely no idea where I was going.

every day a woman should do something that scared her.

Myself I love a thunderstorm better than anything. Sometimes I will run to the top of the hill to whirl around and around on my Indian Rock in the wind, it is like a dance I can not stop. The smell of the lightning goes into your nose and down your whole body. Old Bess says if you get hit by lightning yet live you will have special powers, well I could use some of those. So I don't care if I get hit or not.

On the way, I shared the backseat of Feyerabend's little sports car with the inflatable raft he kept there in case an 8-point earthquake came while he was on the Bay Bridge.

Is it hubris to believe we all live epics?

A cowboy doesn't ask for much, that's my observation. A flashy ride, a pretty girl, momentary glory...

SOON, he replied, which makes better sense under the rules of that country than ours. VERY SOON! he added, clasping my hands; then, unable to keep from laughing, he pushed off from the rock like a boy going for the first cold swim of spring; and the current got him. The stream was singing aloud, and I heard him singing with it until he dropped away over the edge.

quixotically.

A perilous beautiful move, choosing to throw yourself at the future, even if it means one day coming down in the sea.

See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell; The Border Trilogy by Cormac McCarthy; Memories of a Catholic Girlhood by Mary McCarthy; Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt; Dakota by Kathleen Norris; and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.