Quotes About Curiosity

a classic children's book from Catherynne Valente.

I find some amusement at the idea of you as a child, of you reaching no higher than my waist, of you big-eyed, and your big head wobbly on your neck, looking at the world with curiosity if not comprehension, needing to wait years to know enough to know how little you know.

I'm going to go pee. If the universe is bigger and stranger than I can imagine, it's best to meet it with an empty bladder." "Spoken like a true Boy Scout," Harry said. "A Boy Scout wouldn't need to pee as much as I do," I said. "Sure he would," Harry said. "Just give him sixty years.

I wondered then why children played so in the river, but adults ceased to see it with the same eyes. Why couldn't we embrace such simple joys?

I listen....because I don't have any answers.

Men really do need sea-monsters in their personal oceans

I'll want to hear,' Samuel said. 'I eat stories like grapes.

For the most part people are not curious except about themselves.

The free exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world.

When you're a child you're the center of everything. Everything happens for you. Other people? They're only ghosts furnished for you to talk to.

I think today if we forbade our illiterate children to touch the wonderful things of our literature, perhaps they might steal them and find secret joy.

I take a pleasure in inquiring into things. I've never been content to pass a stone without looking under it. And it is a black disappointment to me that I can never see the far side of the moon.

Well, 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.

Some day, his mind said, that boy would know what things were in the books and what things were not.

The remarkable thing," said Doc, "isn't that they put their tails up in the air—the really incredibly remarkable thing is that we find it remarkable. We can only use ourselves as yardsticks. If we did something as inexplicable and strange we'd probably be praying—so maybe they're praying.

I've never been content to pass a stone without looking under it. And it is a black disappointment to me that I can never see the far side of the moon.

And then I saw what I was to see so many times on the journey—a look of longing. "Lord! I wish I could go." "Don't you like it here?" "Sure. It's all right, but I wish I could go." "You don't even know where I'm going." "I don't care. I'd like to go anywhere.

Who in his mind has not probe the dark water?

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.

Lord, how the day passes! It's like a life—so quickly when we don't watch it and so slowly when we do. No," he said, "I'm having enjoyment. And I made a promise to myself that I would not consider enjoyment a sin. I take a pleasure in inquiring into things. I've never been content to pass a stone without looking under it. And it is a black disappointment to me that I can never see the far side of the moon.

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.