Quotes About Exploration

I know it might be better for you to come out from under your might-have-beens, into the winds of the world.

Who in his mind has not probe the dark water?

Then the hard, dry Spaniards came exploring through, greedy and realistic, and their greed was for gold or God. They collected souls as they collected jewels. They gathered mountains and valleys, rivers and whole horizons, the way a man might now gain tittle to building lots.

Puts a weight on ya. Goin' out lookin' for somepin you know you ain't gonna find.

It is not enough to say that we cannot know or judge because all the information is not in. The process of gathering knowledge does not lead to knowing. A child's world spreads only a little beyond his understanding while that of a great scientist thrusts outward immeasurably. An answer is invariably the parent of a great family of new questions. So we draw worlds and fit them like tracings against the world about us, and crumple them when they do not fit and draw new ones.

I have many homes, some that I have not seen yet. Maybe that is why I am restless; I have not yet known all of my homes

In Spanish there is a word for which I can't find a counter word in English. It is the verb vascular, present participle vacilando. I does not mean vacillating at all. If one is vacilando, he is going somewhere but doesn't greatly care whether or not her gets there, although he has direction. . . We could choose some article almost certain not to exist there and then diligently try to find it.

Maybe, kneeling down to atoms, they're becoming atom-sized in their souls. Maybe a specialist is only a coward, afraid to look out of his little cage. And think what any specialist misses--the whole world over his fence.

Bring new eyes to a world even new lenses and presto, new world.

Ad astra per alia porci

I saw in their eyes something I was to see over and over in every part of the nation—a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here. They spoke quietly of how they wanted to go someday, to move about, free and unanchored, not toward something but away from something.

Your days are like pages, the chapters unread. You have to keep turning your book has no end.

My friend Jack Wagner has often, in Mexico, assumed this state of being. Let us say we wanted to walk in the streets of Mexico ity but not at random. We would choose some article almost certain not to exist there and then diligently try to find it.

But Tom got into a book, crawled and groveled between the covers, tunneled like a mole among the thoughts, and came up with the book all over his face and hands.

Can you think that whatever made us—would stop trying?

Na jaren van zwoegen merken we dat we geen reis maken, maar dat de reis on maakt. Reisleiders, dienstregelingen, reserveringen, star en onvermijdelijk, doen hun uiterste best om de persoonlijkheid van de reis te slopen.

Ad astra per alia porci (to the stars on the wings of a pig)

Samuel rode lightly on top of a book and he balanced happily among ideas the way a man rides white rapids in a canoe. But Tom got into a book, crawled and groveled between the covers, tunneled like a mole among the thoughts, and came up with the book all over his face and hands.

And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world.

I've lived in a good climate, and it bores the hell out of me. I like weather rather than climate.

He climbed ecstatic mountains and floundered in the rocky darkness between the peaks.

Maybe a specialist is only a coward, afraid to look out of his little cage. And think what any specialist misses—the whole world over his fence.

Will Hamilton was a very substantial businessman. No one knew exactly how many pies his thumb had explored, but it was known that he was a clever and comparatively rich man.

Then the hard, dry Spaniards came exploring through, greedy and realistic, and their greed was for gold or God. They collected souls as they collected jewels.