Quotes About Search

Is there intelligent life on Earth?

What are we doing here, that is the question.

A hard man is good to find.

I was looking for the key for years But the door was always open

Who am I?, the artist asks. And he devotes his whole life to finding out.

The most difficult problems are naturally not involved in the search for forms for contemporary life. It is a question of working our way to forms behind which real human values lie.

i had no idea what i wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out.

Adult life is dealing with an enormous amount of questions that don't have answers.

Finding the meaning of life is easy. Simply get a dictionary, go to the 'L' section, and find the word 'life.'

It was when I was happiest that I longed most...The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing...to find the place where all the beauty came from.

Hope is an adventure, a going forward, a confident search for a rewarding life.

We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life.

I hope that someday we will find evidence that there is intelligent life among humans on this planet.

Life is like a box of sardines and we are all looking for the key.

There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outline all our lives.

We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide.

And maybe Finch didn't feel like he had a choice, or maybe he wasn't trying to kill himself at all but just going in search of the bottom. But I'll never really know, will I? Then

Theodore Finch, in search of the Great Manifesto." "I don't know what that means." "It means 'the urge to be, to count for something, and, if death must come, to die valiantly, with acclamation – in short, to remain a memory.

Theodore Finch, in search of the Great Manifesto.

Hava is missing. She went for a short walk on the street and never came back.

Found, I told myself. Try to get found.

Look for something real.' Syrinda had said. But how could she, when she didn't even know what that was?

Her body is a city. Her heart is a large shady square, her fingers pedestrians, her hair the light of streetlamps, her knees two rows of buildings. She tries to give people footpaths. She tries to open up her cheeks and her towers. She didn't know streets hurt so much, not that there were so many streets in her to begin with. She wants to take her body on a stroll, out of her body, but she doesn't know where the key is.

The thought of Peter and John Ambrose McClaren in the same space together again is discomforting. Where would I even look?