Quotes About Exploration

And Polo answers, "Traveling, you realize that differences are lost: each city takes to resembling all cities...

Yes, the empire is sick, and, what is worse, it is trying to become accustomed to its sores. This is the aim of my explorations: examining the traces of happiness still to be glimpsed, I gauge its short supply. If you want to know how much darkness there is around you, you must sharpen your eyes, peering at the faint lights in the distance.

Bir kentte hayran kald???n ?ey onun yedi ya da yetmi? yedi harikas? de?il, senin ona sordu?un bir soruya verdi?i yan?tt?r.

Reader, it is time for your tempest-tossed vessel to come to port. What harbor can receive you more securely than a great library? Certainly there is one in the city from which you set out and to which you have returned after circling the world from book to book.

Fantasy is a place where it rains.

Her breast was young, the nipples rosy. Cosimo just grazed it with his lips, before Viola slid away over the branches as if she were flying, with him clambering after her, and that skirt of hers always in his face

There is still, in fact, in Calvino's archive a drawer full of newspaper cuttings concerning scientific discoveries. As

De una ciudad no disfrutas las siete o setenta y siete maravillas, sino la respuesta que da a una pregunta tuya

Yolcu sahip oldu?u tenhay? tan?r, sahip olmad??? ve olamayaca?? kalabal??? ke?federek.

Elsewhere is a negative mirror. The traveller recognises the little that is his, discovering the much he has not had and will never have.

The trouble is that once upon a time they all began like that, all novels. There was somebody who went along a lonely street and saw something that attracted his attention, something that seemed to conceal a mystery, or a premonition; then he asked for explanations and they told him a long story…

Reading means stripping yourself of every purpose, every foregone conclusion, to be ready to catch a voice that makes itself heard when you least expect it, a voice that comes from an unknown source, from somewhere beyond the book, beyond the author, beyond the conventions of writing: from the unsaid, from what the world has not yet said of itself and does not yet have the words to say

instead I find myself more and more outside; from one courtyard I move to another courtyard, as if in this palace all the doors served only for leaving and never for entering.

Perhaps, Kublai thought, the empire is nothing but a zodiac of the mind's phantasms.

Ogni vita è un enciclopedia, una biblioteca, un campionario di stili, dove tutto può essere continuamente rimescolato e riordinato in tutti i modi possibili

Il viaggiatore riconosce il poco che è suo, scoprendo il molto che non ha avuto e non avrà.

Cosimo si gettò nel folto: avrebbe voluto che fosse mille volte più folto, una valanga di foglie e rami e spini e caprifogli e capelveneri da affondarci e sprofondarci e solo dopo essercisi del tutto sommerso cominciare a capire se era felice o folle di paura.

La fantasia è una specie di macchina elettronica che tiene conto di tutte le combinazioni possibili e sceglie quelle che rispondono ad un fine, o che semplicemente sono le più interessanti, piacevoli, divertenti.

In the infinite universe of literature there are always other avenues to explore, some brand-new and some exceedingly ancient, styles and forms that can change our image of the world. And when literature fails to assure me that I'm not merely chasing dreams, I look to science to sustain my visions in which all heaviness dissolves . . .

Traveling, you realize that differences are lost: each city takes to resembling all cities, places exchange their form, order, distances, a shapeless dust cloud invades the continent.

Ba?ka yer, negatif bir aynad?r. Yolcu sahip oldu?u tenhay? tan?r, sahip olmad??? ve olmayaca?? kalabal??? ke?federek.

Reading is going toward something that is about to be, and no one yet knows what it will be....

Una poesia vive anche per il potere d'irradiare ipotesi divagazioni associazioni d'idee in territori lontani, o meglio di richiamare e agganciare a sé idee di varia provenienza, organizzandole in una mobile rete di riferimenti e rifrazioni, come attraverso un cristallo.

La pagina ha il suo bene solo quando la volti e c'è la vita dietro che spinge e scompiglia tutti i fogli del libro. La penna corre spinta dallo stesso piacere che ti fa correre le strade. Il capitolo che attacchi e non sai ancora quale storia racconterà è come l'angolo che volterai uscendo dal convento e non sai se ti metterà faccia a faccia con un drago, uno stuolo barbaresco, un'isola incantata, un nuovo amore.