Quotes About Exploration

The kids all turned to look at the Mystery Girl and saw Mimi's and Papa's bottoms as they leaned into the plane looking for the lost necklace. Uh, I guess you'll meet the front of them later, Grant said.

Deerfield, Massachusetts February 29, 1704 Temperature 0 degrees Eben's moccasins were lined with thick black fur. His boots were abandoned at the edge of the trail. Eben thought of Deerfield men getting this far in pursuit and finding a hundred pairs of shoes.

Everybody was outdoors. This was the walkingest place Brian had ever seen.

but it was still dark in the woods

you have to hunt for yourself before you do anything else." "Hunt? That's a strange word," Emma said. "Honey, we are hunting our whole lives. As women, we hunt for love. As artists, we hunt for inspiration. As people, we hunt for truth.

who'd found a whole bed of mice.

We write to find out what we didn't know we knew. We write to know deeper and truer. We write to connect the dots: a whole new constellation.

Honest autoethnographic exploration generates a lot of fears and self-doubt and emotional pain. Just when you think you can't stand the pain anymore that's when the real work begins. Then there is the vulnerability of revealing yourself, not being able to take back what you 've written or having any control over how readers interpret your story.

Do you mind if we stop at the Hip Hop Shop?" Bess asked pleadingly.

hunting for a needle in a haystack.

Nancy scarcely had time to deposit her suitcase under her cot and freshen up after the long ride when lunch was announced by the ringing of a bell. Campers hurried from all directions to the dining hall. The food was plain but appetizing and Nancy ate with zest. The meal over, she was rushed from one activity to another. The girls insisted that she join them in a hike. Then came a cooling dip in the lake.

Nancy invited Bess to go along and proceeded toward the river. Salty's home was very quaint. Once it had been a small, attractive yacht. Now it was a beached wreck, weathered by sun and rain. Its only claim to any former glory was the flag which flew proudly from the afterdeck.

As Nancy started back to the driveway she caught sight of a small leather-covered book lying a few feet from the doghouse. Eagerly Nancy snatched it up.

Bald Head Cave.

The following morning Nancy spent two hours at the library examining old atlases and historic records. Although the librarian permitted her access to some old and precious maps, she could find no chart which bore any resemblance to the scrap in her possession.

Nancy and Helen said good-by and paddled off upstream. The Angus River, a tributary of the Muskoka, was banked on either side with dense shrubbery, willow trees, and wild flowers. "We're almost to Benton," Nancy said. "The old inn should be just beyond the next bend.

When the craft had been airborne about an hour, Nancy became fascinated by the unusual river country landscape. It was like a wide peninsula with a river on each side. To their right lay the wide brown Mississippi and ahead on the left they could see the bluish water of the Ohio.

With Nancy in the lead, the riders cut across the big meadow at a gallop and started up the mountain trail. Nancy followed Aunt Bet's map, and after a long, hot climb, the girls sighted a group of weather-beaten frame buildings clinging to the slope above. As they rode into the streets of the ghost town they were struck by the silence and the bleached look of the sagging buildings. In front of a dilapidated hotel they dismounted and tied their horses to an old hitching rail.

Five minutes later Nancy pulled into the double garage and hurried across the lawn to the kitchen door of the Drews' large red-brick house. The building stood well back from the street, and was surrounded by tall, beautiful trees.

Cautiously the girls moved forward, flashing their lights over the half-rotted flooring. The water was lapping against the posts of the building. Giant, eerie shadows leaped at them as they flashed their lights into every corner. The beam from Nancy's came to rest on an old overturned rowboat against the wall. From its stern protruded a pair of bare feet, bound with rope.

With their purchases in boxes the girls strolled down the street to a Spanish restaurant. Here they ate a delicious lunch of tacos and spicy chili. For dessert they had iced fresh fruit. Bess sighed. "Umm, that was super." Afterward, they walked to a wide street beside a park where an outdoor painting exhibition was being held. The group stopped now and then to admire and compliment the artists who sat beside their work.

The grounds seemed eerie in the moonless night as the couple walked quietly, beaming their flashes ahead of them. They circled the inn. The place was completely dark, with the exception of the tiny night light in the main lobby.

Presently Jim turned onto the side road which led to the lake. When they reached it, the setting sun had turned the water to a golden color. A few sailboats, silhouetted against the red sky, were heading toward shore. "What a lovely scene!" Nancy exclaimed.

Dust flew behind me, and I crouched over the handlebars, sucking air through my mask, blinking behind my goggles.