Quotes About Curiosity

If I like something, I then have to study every single aspect of it to find out if there's more things that I would like, and it's just this weird hunger to want more. I always feel like there's so much that exists.

Hungry people are always looking for more. More things to do. More to learn. More responsibility to take on.

The greatest creators are as hungry to consume as they are to create.

I like the cut of his jib and the glint in his eye, the arrow of his song and the beg of his question.

The child is a metaphysical being.

Until that moment she had not really noticed him. Now she felt as though she'd stubbed her toe on a rock, and looked down to find that it was part of a buried city.

It was silly but incredibly sweet, these people spending so much energy trying to figure me out. The answer: I don't like cherries.

I knew I liked her then, really liked her, this girl with an explanation for everything.

She had what the Victorians would call a finely shaped head . You could imagine the skull quite easily. I'd know her head anywhere. And what's inside it. I think of that, too: her mind. Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy?

I remember always being baffled by other children. I would be at a birthday party and watch the other kids giggling and making faces, and I would try to do that, too, but I wouldn't understand why . I would site there with the tight elastic thread of the birthday hat parting the pudge of my underchin, with the grainy frosting of the cake bluing my teeth, and I would try to figure out why it was fun.

My sense of weightlessness, I think, comes from the fact that I know so little about my past..

People are strange

No wedding ring. I wondered when I began to notice such things.

Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts.

I stand in the middle of my room and debate not answering. Bang bang bang. I understand now why so many horror movies use that device—the mysterious knock on the door—because it has the weight of a nightmare. You don't know what's out there, yet you know you'll open it. You'll think what I think: No one bad ever knocks .

We do silly things, like last weekend we drove to Delaware because neither of us have ever had sex in Delaware.

When I think of my wife, I always think of the back of her head. I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers. The primal questions of a marriage: What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?

I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts.

Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it

Jackie's words stuck with me: Way things are with your mother, you're better in Chicago. How much more of a sign did I need to leave Wind Gap? I wondered exactly why she and Adora had fallen out. Had to be more than a forgotten greeting card. I made a mental note to drop by Jackie's when she was less looped. If she ever was. Then again, I was hardly the one to frown on a drinker

I understand now why so many horror movies use that device—the mysterious knock on the door—because it has the weight of a nightmare. You don't know what's out there, yet you know you'll open it. You'll think what I think: No one bad ever knocks.

I am doing my thing, my impulse thing: What if I leap from the theater balcony right now? What if I tongue the homeless man across from me on the subway? What if I sit down on the floor of this party by myself and eat everything on that deli tray, including the cigarettes?

Sometimes you need to get lost for a little.

It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again.