Quotes About Curiosity

Once in a while I lie there, as the television runs, and I read something wild and ancient from one of several collections of folktales I own. Apples that summon sea maidens, eggs that fulfill any wish, pears that make people grow long noses that fall off again. Then sometimes I get up and don my robe and go out into our quiet neighborhood looking for a magic thread, a magic sword, a magic horse.

I'd thought something was required of me, but I hadn't wanted to find out what it was.

I felt the stirring even of parts of me that had been dead since childhood, that sense of the child as a sort of antenna stuck in the middle of an infinite expanse of possibilities.

Around these strange people I felt hungry. I smelled some kind of debauchery, the whiff of a potion that would banish everything plaguing me.

What's your name? Emma Gould, she said. What's yours? Wanted. By all the girls or just the law?

Baby, why are you all wet?

There's always a 'she'. Isn't there?

It's like I'm in a beautiful library but none of the books have titles.

People just want you to see them as they hope to be seen. And everyone wants to be seen as interesting.

How long since she yearned? How long since she dared believe something so foolish as the idea that someone anywhere has the answers to questions she can't even put into words?

In our haste to modernize under the banner of science, we seem to have gone too far in casting out all mystery and magic from our world.

The human being is a most curious creature. He thinks he has got one soul, and he has got dozens.

A hedgehog? And just how does a hedgehog make love? he demanded. No, I thought. I won't. I will not. But I did. Very carefully, I replied, giggling helplessly. So now we know just how old that one is, I thought.

You could tell from the books whether a library was meant for show or not. Books that were used had an open, interested feel to them, even if closed and neatly lined up on a shelf in strict order with their fellows. You felt as though the book took as much interest in you as you did in it and was willing to help when you reached for it.

What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder?" he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. "What is what about me?" He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. "What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye." "Well, if you don't know, my dear," I said, "no one does.

Jamie felt a strong desire to go across and see what the open books were, to go to the shelves and run his knuckles gently over the leather and wood and buckrum of the bindings until a book should speak to him and come willingly into his hand.

I could feel the hair rising on my forearms, as though with cold, and rubbed them uneasily. Two hundred years. From 1945 to 1743; yes, near enough. And women who traveled through the rocks. Was it always women? I wondered suddenly.

You don't have any hair at all at the tops of your thighs, I said, admiring the smooth white skin there. Why is that, do you think? The cow licked it off the last time she milked me, he said between his teeth. For God's sake, Sassenach!

Deftly whipping a small tuning fork from his pocket, he struck it smartly against a pillar and held it next to Jamie's left ear. Jamie rolled his eyes heavenward, but shrugged and obligingly sang a note. The little man jerked back as though he'd been shot.

Ian—is that by chance Ian Murray?" Grey asked, but then answered himself. "I suppose it must be; how many Mohawks can there be named Ian?

A general cry of What book? What book? Let us see this famous book!

What is it about ye, Sassenach, I wonder?" he said conversationally, eyes still fixed on Myers. What is what about me?" He turned then, and gave me a narrow eye. What it is that makes every man ye meet want to take off his breeks within five minutes of meetin' ye.

What, she's taken the hairs off her honeypot?" he said, horrified into uncharacteristic vulgarity.

You know historians - can't leave a puzzle alone