Quotes About Exploration

Cagayan River.

All that we do is touched with ocean, and yet we remain on the shore of what we know

Step off assuredly into the blank of your own mind. Something will come to you. Although at first You nod through nothing like a fogbound prow, Gravel will breed in the margins of your gaze

I was leaving the South to fling myself into the unknown . . . I was taking a part of the South to transplant in alien soil, to see if it could grow differently, if it could drink of new and cool rains, bend in strange winds, respond to the warmth of other suns and, perhaps, to bloom

I was not leaving the south to forget the south, but so that some day I might understand it

In avoiding specific goals he had avoided specific limitations. For the time being the world, life itself, could be his chosen field.

For once, you're going to hear something that doesn't fit into your neat, compartmentalized world of order and logic and reason.

Some people read books for fun.

We cannot road trip to Paris.

Why not the Bahamas? Or the Corn Palace?

if you'd teach me to swear in russian, i might have a new appreciation for it

Thank you for sending my imagination to a place it can never return from.

You know--girl stuff.' And by girl stuff, I meant breaking and entering.

There's something tiring about an endless, unknown stretch of highway.

We'd caught a commuter flight from there to Philadelphia, and from there to Seattle and now Fairbanks. It reminded me a little of the crazy flights I'd had to take from Siberia back to the U.S. That journey had also gone via Seattle. I was starting to believe that city was a gateway to obscure places.

By all appearances the cabin was unoccupied, but the car tracks in the mud indicated this place was frequented often;

Island cave, gold flower!

You are not too old and it is not too late to dive into your increasing depths where life calmly gives out its own secret.

Books inviting us to read, on the bookshelves stand. Piers for bridges that will lead, into Fairyland.

To have a childhood means to live a thousand lives before the one.

the future stands still dear Mr Kappus, but we move in infinite space.

If, at the end of the Atlantic, Columbus had found only an absence of water, this English tourist would have been there to capture that void with a wide-angle lens. Here, the wind blows from nowhere to nowhere across a plain transformed by salt into a vision of light. Sometimes a word is found so right it trembles at the slightest explanation. You start out with one thing, end up with another, and nothing's like it used to be, not even the future.

THE HILL HAS SOMETHING TO SAY but isn't talking. Instead the valley groans as the wind, amphoric, hoots its one bad note. Halfway up, we stop to peek through smudged pine: this is Europe and its green terraces. What's left to climb's inside us, : it's not all in the books (but maps don't lie). (For all we know the wind's inside us, pacing our lungs.)

Hush, now. Assay the terrain: all around us dark and the perimeter in flames, but the stars— tiny, missionary stars— on high, serene, studding the inky brow of heaven.