Quotes About Discovery

Meaning must be found; it cannot be given. And it must be found by oneself, by one's own conscience.

And just as the animal is at times misled by the vital instincts, so may man go astray... whereas the ethical instinct alone enables him to discover the unique requirement of a unique situation

Si no sabes cuál es tu misión en la vida, ya tienes una: encontrarla.

We came to meadows full of flowers. We saw and realized that they were there, but we had no feelings about them. The first spark of joy came when we saw a rooster with a tail of multicolored feathers. But it remained only a spark; we did not yet belonged to this world.

la vida no se trata de dar sentido, sino de encontrar sentido. La vida no es ningún test de Rorschach, sino un cuadro enigmático. El sentido de la vida no puede idearse, hay que descubrirlo.

Custom is a shroud that conceals everything. Not without first encountering the uncustomary will we be able to recognize what is customary and, more importantly, to change it. Such is the impulse behind our conversation with the vampryoteuthis

I hold a theory that, sooner or later, if a man but live long enough, certain books destined for his peculiar delight will find him, however obscure they or he may be.

Every new search is a voyage to the Indies, a quest for buried treasure, a journey to the end of the rainbow; and whether or not at the end there shall be turned up a pot of gold or merely a delightful volume, there are always wonders along the way.

at ramum hunc' (aperit ramum, qui veste latebat) 'adgnoscas.

At the simplest level, only people who know they do not know everything will be curious enough to find things out.

As we shape our stories, we shape ourselves.

I have made up thousands of stories; I have filled innumerable notebooks with phrases to be used when I have found the true story, the one story to which all these phrases refer. But I have never yet found the story. And I begin to ask, Are there stories?

I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say "This is it"? My depression is a harassed feeling. I'm looking: but that's not it — that's not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it?

Every face, every shop, bedroom window, public-house, and dark square is a picture feverishly turned--in search of what? It is the same with books. What do we seek through millions of pages?

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

That was the strange thing, that one did not know where one was going, or what one wanted, and followed blindly, suffering so much in secret, always unprepared and amazed and knowing nothing; but one thing led to another and by degrees something had formed itself out of nothing, and so one reached at last this calm, this quiet, this certainty, and it was this process that people called living.

There is no doubt in my mind, that I have found out how to begin (at 40) to say something in my own voice.

I have sought happiness through many ages and not found it.

Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.

Books - books - books, said Helen, in her absent-minded way. More new books - I wonder what you find in them...

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

But words have been used too often; touched and turned, and left exposed to the dust of the street. The words we seek hang close to the tree. We come at dawn and find them sweet beneath the leaf.

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;