Quotes About Search

At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.

They put spotlights on me standing there in the road in jeans and workclothes, with the big woeful rucksack a-back, and asked:-Where are you going? which is precisely what they asked me a year later under Television floodlights in New York, Where are you going?-Just as you cant explain to the police, you cant explain to society Looking for peace.

This can't go on all the time- all this franticness and jumping around. We've got to go someplace, find something.

You can't live in this world but there's no where else to go.

Where is he tonight? Where am I? Where are you?

Non si può vivere in questo mondo, ma non c'è nessun altro posto dove andare.

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise

Ah, holy hole!

The poet becomes a seer through a long, immense, and reasoned derangement of all the senses. All shapes of love, suffering, madness. He searches himself, he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences …' Burroughs

You can't live in this world but there's nowhere else to go

It's terrible never to find a father in a world chock-full of fathers of all sorts.

Well, now you know me. You know I don't have close relationships with anybody any more - I don't know what to do with these things. I hold things in my hand like pieces of crap and don't know where to put it down.

The last thing is what you can´t get. Nobody can get to that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once for all

in search of something they don't really find, and losing themselves on the road, and coming all the way back hopeful of something else.

Viviamo per desiderare, e cosi farò anch'io, e balzerò giù da questa montagna sapendo tutto alla perfezione o non sapendo tutto alla perfezione, pieno di splendida ignoranza in cerca di una scintilla altrove.

He would have had to roam the entire United States and look in every garbage pail from coast to coast before he found me embryonically convoluted among the rubbishes of my life, his life, and the life of everybody concerned and not concerned.

The semiology and phenomenology of hashtaggery intrigues me. From what I understand, it all began very simply: on Twitter, hashtags - those little checkerboard marks that look like this # - were used to mark phrases or names, in order to make it easier to search for them among the zillions and zillions of tweets.

I find personalized search convenient - I read stories on my Facebook feed, my Twitter feed, daily email services, and my iPhone's Flipboard app, and would love to be able to focus my searches on just those particular services.

I think Facebook is an online directory for colleges... If I want to get information about you, I just go to TheFacebook, type in your name, and it hopefully pulls up all the information I'd care to know about you.

Type 'What is th' and faster than you can find the 'e' Google is sending choices back at you: 'What is the cloud?' 'What is the mean?' 'What is the American dream?' 'What is the illuminati?' Google is trying to read your mind. Only it's not your mind. It's the World Brain.

Both types of books - fiction and nonfiction - are a search for story. As a writer and a reader, there's nothing I crave more than a good story!

I find myself on Yelp typing in 'the best 'blank' all the time: best cheese, best ice cream, best pizza.

It is time to call out Google for what it is: a monopolist in search, video, maps and browser, and a thin-skinned tyrant when it comes to ideas.

Religion is the search for ultimate meaning.