Quotes About Exploration

Men from the mountains always dream of the sea, and above all things I love to travel.

The unknown is my compass

Archaeologists of the soul never return empty-handed.

His theatre was the clouds, where no spectacle repeated itself. On land he was a foreigner. Land for him was stasis, and it pulled him into immobility, which was his image of death." —

Sex does not thrive on monotony. Without feeling, inventions, moods,no surprises in bed. Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, scenes, jealousy, envy, all the spices of fear, foreign travel, new faces, novels, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing, opium, wine.

To escape him she had run away to the end of the world. To be free of him she had run away to places where he never went.

sons perdidos à procura de perdidas cores. corto o ar e nado através de quartos sem paredes

Ordinary life does not interest me.

Viaggiamo per cercare altri luoghi, altre vite,m altre anime.

There is a spiral, in you, and in your books. Rich, richer than any writer or man yet known to me. You only need to do enough thinking to know where you are going, that is all.

Why go to Tahiti or Bali? Only sad, defeated people do that.

Why has she loved ships so deeply, why has she always wanted to sail away from this world? Why has she always dreamed of flight, of departure?

Yes, Anaïs, I want to demask you. I am too gallant with you. I want to look at you long and ardently, pick up your dress, fondle you, examine you. Do you know I have scarcely looked at you? There is still too much sacredness clinging to you.

A única luz provinha de uma estufa para onde o salão dava. Estava repleta de plantas tropicais, rodeando um lago cheio de peixes dourados. Um caminho de seixos circundava o lago. O sol, filtrado através das folhas verdes, projectava uma sumida luz esverdeada, como se eu estivesse no fundo do oceano. Tudo aquilo parecia apto a abandonar a luz do dia comum para explorar os mundos submersos.

He overlooks the voluptuousness of half-knowledge, half-possession, of leaning over the edge dangerously, for no specific climax.

I want to give you an idea. . . . "Ask some rector for a copy of the Apocrypha". . .. "Read Rabelais in old French." "Reread Cervantes" .

The Lawrence book excited me too.

Discovering a new street in Paris, or a new café, is much more interesting to me than visiting an old château or cathedral in some godforsaken hamlet.

You like feeling lost. You enjoy being baffled. It gives you a false sense of mental energy, activity.

Find the most salient, the most revelatory features of the story and expand them to the utmost, wring the last drop of juice from them.

Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous. I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension.

Cannot or will not accept himself. How can I accept a limited definable self when I feel, in me, all possibilities?

There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend reality by imagination, as I try to do.

I want to make my own discoveries…….penetrate the evil which attracts me