Quotes About Discovery

I LEAVE poetry IN LIBRARY BOOKS.

Frank and Joe briefly told the officer on duty they might have a lead and dashed off to their car. They soon reached New Street, where most of the old-fashioned houses had "Rooms for Rent" signs in windows. Number 49 was a large run-down mansion, set far back from the street. Frank and Joe climbed the high steps and rang the bell. A neatly dressed, middle-aged woman opened the door.

Frank drove five miles north of town to an elevated spot overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and directly below, Barmet Bay. From the road, they could see Bayport hugging the coast with its many docks stretching like dark fingers into the bay.

enough so that by scrambling over its bow one could land on the tumbled heaps of rocks and boulders just beneath the opening. "Let's take a look," he said eagerly. "Jerry, will you hold the boat here?" "Sure. Go ahead." Within a few minutes the others were climbing up the boulders toward the cave mouth. Presently they vanished into the dark interior.

They drove around to the north shore, and presently came upon two large stone pillars covered with vines. The name MEAD was carved on one. As they turned into the driveway, Joe said, "The place looks deserted to me." A short distance ahead of them was a clump of trees, around which the driveway wound to the stone mansion. The imposing house at the end of the deeply rutted and overgrown road stood about two hundred feet from the water, commanding an unobstructed view of Barmet Bay.

When he reached the selected cruising altitude, Jerry set the plane on course. Hour after hour passed as it bore through the sky. Lulled by the drone of the engines, the boys caught up on some sleep. When they awoke, the first light of dawn was breaking in the east. Gradually the light grew brighter, revealing a fascinating mosaic of deep blue and jade green on the surface of the ocean below.

After explaining that they would try to find a glove of similar manufacture, Frank and Joe left.

Within half an hour Frank was guiding their convertible through the crowded streets of the grimy waterfront section of Southport. Reaching Dock Street, Joe began to look at the house numbers. "There it is!" he exclaimed. "Pull up, Frank." Twenty-four Dock Street was a ramshackle tenement. As the boys walked through the open front door, a stocky man dressed in dirty work clothes brushed rudely by them into the hallway.

Something down there move!

Acting as if there were no problems on their minds, Frank and Joe strolled along whistling. Once they joined a group of people who were watching a sidewalk merchant. The man was demonstrating little jumping animals. Frank and Joe laughed as they bought a monkey and a kangaroo. "Iola and Callie will get a kick out of these," Joe predicted.

There were no ships to be seen, and no people; only here and there the traces of some old building. Many villages had flourished in these parts before the first Northmen came, but everything had long since been plundered and laid waste, so that nowadays men had to travel far to the south before they could find any prizes worth the taking.

Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.

And I leave my post of observation and find I have had enough of this outside life; I feel that there is nothing more that I can learn here, either now or at any time. And I long to say a last goodbye to everything up here, to go down into my burrow never to return again, let things take their course, and not try to retard them with my profitless vigils.

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite

Two tasks at the beginning of your life: to narrow your orbit more and more, and ever and again to check whether you are not in hiding somewhere outside your orbit.

Some books seem like a key to unfamiliar rooms in one's own castle.

I have discovered your great wound. You are dying from this flower blooming on your side.

I am on the hunt for constructions. I come into a room and find them whitely merging in a corner.

Today one may pluck out one's very heart and not find it.

Every new discovery is assumed at once into the sum total of knowledge, and with that ceases in a sense to be a discovery; it dissolves into the whole and disappears, and one must have a trained scientific eye even to recognize it after that.

There is a place where I never was before: here breathing is different, and more dazzling than the sun is the radiance of a star beside it.

So if you find nothing in the corridors open the doors, and if you find nothing behind these doors there are more floors, and if you find nothing up there, don't worry, just leap up another flight of stairs. As long as you don't stop climbing, the stairs won't end, under your climbing feet they will go on growing upwards

There are possibilities for me, certainly, but under what stone do they lie?

Quem procura não encontra, mas quem não procura é encontrado.