Quotes About Exploration

The merging of characteristics between different species creates a very powerful language, one that I love to explore through my art, enabling me to tap into the unconscious.

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

I am reading six books at once, the only way of reading; since, as you will agree, one book is only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.

I'm sick to death of this particular self. I want another.

Therefore I would ask you to write all kinds of books, hesitating at no subject however trivial or however vast. By hook or by crook, I hope that you will possess yourselves of money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream.

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?

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?

Come indoors then, and open the books on your library shelves. For you have a library and a good one. A working library, a living library; a library where nothing is chained down and nothing is locked up; a library where the songs of the singers rise naturally from the lives of the livers.

And yet, the only exciting life is the imaginary one.

Literature is no one's private ground, literature is common ground; let us trespass freely and fearlessly and find our own way for ourselves.

She read everything.

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

Whenever you see a board up with Trespassers will be prosecuted, trespass at once.

I exist only in the soles of my feet and in the tired muscles of my thighs. We have been walking for hours it seems. But where? I cannot remember.

I am tied down with single words. But you wander off; you slip away; you rise up higher, with words and words in phrases.

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

Ransack the language as he might, words failed him. He wanted another landscape, and another tongue.

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.

I to my friends, to my own heart, I to seek among phrases and fragments something unbroken.

And I will now rock the brown basin from side to side so that my ships may ride the waves. Some will founder. Some will dash themselves against the cliffs. One sails alone. That is my ship. It sails into icy caverns where the sea-bear barks and stalactites swing green chains.

Looking upwards, she speculates still more ambitiously upon the nature of the moon, and if the stars are blazing jellies; looking downwards she wonders if the fishes know that the sea is salt; opines that our heads are full of fairies, 'dear to God as we are'; muses whether there are not other worlds than ours, and reflects that the next ship may bring us word of a new one. In short, 'we are in utter darkness'. Meanwhile, what a rapture is thought!

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;