Exploring Quotes

Quotes tagged as "exploring" Showing 1-30 of 56
Roman Payne
“Never did the world make a queen of a girl who hides in houses and dreams without traveling.”
Roman Payne, The Wanderess

Roman Payne
“A person does not grow from the ground like a vine or a tree, one is not part of a plot of land. Mankind has legs so it can wander.”
Roman Payne, The Wanderess

John Boyne
“The thing about exploring is that you have to know whether the thing you've found is worth finding. Some things are just sitting there, minding their own business, waiting to be discovered. Like America. And other things are probably better off left alone. Like a dead mouse at the back of the cupboard.”
John Boyne, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Seymour Simon
“I'm more interested in arousing enthusiasm in kids than in teaching the facts. The facts may change, but that enthusiasm for exploring the world will remain with them the rest of their lives.”
Seymour Simon

Neil Gaiman
“On the first day Coraline's family moved in, Miss Spink and Miss Forcible made a point of telling Coraline how dangerous the well was, and they warned her to be sure she kept away from it. So Coraline set off to explore for it, so that she knew where it was, to keep away from it properly.”
Neil Gaiman, Coraline

Ibrahim Nasrallah
“كم تود أن تضيع فيمالا تعرفه ، وتحبه ، لتكتشفه وتكتشف نفسك”
إبراهيم نصر الله, أقل من عدو أكثر من صديق: السيرة الطائرة

Paulo Coelho
“I can speak to my soul only when the two of us are off exploring deserts or cities or mountains or roads.”
Paulo Coelho, Aleph

Jessica Pan
“There's a simplicity and a sense of adventure to being alone, and I sometimes envy you for having it, as you explore Paris. Even when you're getting your heart broken, you can still wake up and not know what's going to happen next.”
Jessica Pan, Graduates in Wonderland: The International Misadventures of Two (Almost) Adults

Tim Cahill
“Finally, consider your predicament a privilege in a world so shrunken that certain people refer to it as the 'global village.' The term 'explorer' has little meaning. But exploration is nothing more than a faray into the unknown, and a four-year old child, wandering about along in the department store, fits the definition as well as the snow-blind man wandering across the Khyber Pass. The explorer is the person who is lost.”
Tim Cahill, Jaguars Ripped My Flesh

Meara O'Hara
“We were willing to explore and be surprised. Willing to trust that there was beauty out there and love and joy. Ready to have our hearts touched and our souls hugged.”
Meara O'Hara, The Wanderess and her Suitcase

Walt Disney Company
“You have a lot to explore beyond this cottage if you want to know everything about the world. Explore until your heart is full, Belle. And then explore some more.”
Random House Disney, Belle's Discovery

“If only humans had real feathery wings to jump off from tallest buildings in order to take flights at nights. An escape vagabonding and exploring mother nature's delight!”
Suyasha Subedi

Christopher C. Fuchs
“He knew a narrow deer path that switchbacked through breaks in the rocks and down the ridge. We soon came to flat ground where a few trees populated the foot of the ridge. Sycamores and white oaks, poplars and lindens quickly multiplied around us. Within only a marq or so the trees drew closer and closer together, their roots entangling and branches mingling. The path was fraught with roots that knotted up in strangled bundles until there was no path at all. We were forced to dismount and lead the horses.”
Christopher C. Fuchs, The Depths of Redemption

Martine Bailey
“The track led into a sort of tunnel made of forest. They left daylight behind, a thousand leaves hemming them into dusky shade. As she traipsed behind Jack's torn blue jacket, he squinted into the foliage, hearkening to every cracking twig or bird-chirrup. After what seemed an age, they came out into blessed sunshine again. They were in a clearing, their ears filled with a thundering wind, the air itself trembling. A few paces further they came upon the source: above them, a waterfall tumbled from a clifftop as high as a church steeple. The water fell in milky blue strands, shooting spray in the air that danced in rainbows of gold, pink and blue. At their feet was a deep and inviting lagoon. It fair took her breath away.
Jack crouched to look at the pool's edge, where a mud bank was scrabbled with marks.
"We should go back," he said. "Something drinks here."
She didn't care. She was spellbound. "Look, a cave!" Across the lagoon stood a dark entrance hung with pretty mosses, like a fairy grotto.
"Just one peep," she whispered, for there was something powerful and secret about the place. "Then we can go back."
But Jack was still peering at the tracks around the water's edge.
"Whatever drinks here, it's not here now. I dare you, Jack. A quick look around the cave and then we'll be on our way." She had a notion, from some story or other, that caves were places where treasure was hidden; she reckoned pirates might have left jewels and plunder behind long ago.
"It's the end of the rainbow," she laughed. "Let's find our crock of gold.”
Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade

Alain Bremond-Torrent
“Temping in the temple of another tempo.”
Alain Bremond-Torrent, running is flying intermittently

Steven Magee
“While astronomers have been exploring outer Space, I have been exploring inner space.”
Steven Magee

José Saramago
“A man went to knock on the king's door and said, Give me a boat”
José Saramago, The Tale of the Unknown Island

Sona Charaipotra
“I pull a bobby pin out from my bun and push it into the old lock, waiting for the tiny bolt to ease downward and click out of place. I like to be in places where I'm not supposed to be-in my old high school's attic or in the empty house in my San Fran neighborhood. There's a tiny thrill in picking a lock and exploring a space that others want closed up.”
Sona Charaipotra, Tiny Pretty Things

Rebecca Solnit
“I kept coming back to this route for respite from my work and for my work too, because thinking is generally thought of as doing nothing in a production-oriented culture, and doing nothing is hard to do. It’s best done by disguising it as doing something, and the something closest to doing nothing is walking. Walking itself is the intentional act closest to the unwilled rhythms of the body, to breathing and the beating of the heart. It strikes a delicate balance between working and idling, being and doing. It is a bodily labor that produces nothing but thoughts, experiences, arrivals.”
Rebecca Solnit

Mladen Đorđević
“Fear of the unknown will always be overpowered by human desire toward exploration. Curiosity is the risk, whose gifts often pays off.”
Mladen Đorđević, Svetioničar - Pritajeno zlo

Graham Hancock
“At a deeper level what this whole exchange revealed to me was something disturbing about the way science works. I hadn't quite grasped the role of fear before. But I could see it in action everywhere here: fear of being 'noticed and monitored by colleagues,' fear of unwanted negative celebrity, fear of indignity, fear of loss of reputation, fear of loss of career--and not for committing some terrible crime but simply for exploring unorthodox possibilities and undertaking 'somewhat controversial research' into what everyone agrees were extraordinary events 12,800 years ago.
Worse still, this pervasive state of fear has somehow ingrained itself so deeply into the fabric of science that those who have embraced unorthodox possibilities themselves are often among the least willing to consider unorthodox possibilities embraced by others--lest by doing so they 'contaminate' their own preferred unorthodoxy.
How will it ever be possible to discover the truth about the past when so much fear gets in the way?”
Graham Hancock, America Before: The Key to Earth's Lost Civilization

Steven Magee
“While astronomers have been pleasuring themselves with Space, I have been exploring the biological science of insane masturbators.”
Steven Magee

Eden Finley
“Books, on the other hand … you borrow from a library until you find the book you love, and then you keep it. The library won’t let you borrow more books until you return it, but you never return it because you’ll never need any other book”
Eden Finley, Blindsided

Ben Montgomery
“...she offered an assortment of reasons about why she was walking. The kids were finally out of the house. She heard that no woman had yet thru-hiked in one direction. She liked nature. She thought it would be a lark. I want to see what’s on the other side of the hill, then what’s beyond that, she told a reported in Ohio. Any one of the answers could stand on its own, but viewed collectively, the diversity of responses left her motivation open to interpretation, as though she wanted people to seek out their own conclusions, if there were any to be made. Maybe each answer was honest. Maybe she was trying to articulate that exploring the world was a good way to explore her own mind.”
Ben Montgomery, Grandma Gatewood's Walk: The Inspiring Story of the Woman Who Saved the Appalachian Trail

Martine Bailey
“I continued my explorations in a cobbled yard overlooked by broken doors and cracked windows. Pushing open a swollen door into a storeroom, I found a stream running across paving stones and a carpet of slippery green moss. My explorations took me beneath a gateway surmounted by a clock face, standing with hands fixed permanently at eleven o'clock. Beyond stood derelict stables; then the park opened up in an undulating vista, reaching all the way to a swathe of deep forest on the horizon. In the distance was the twinkle of the river that I realized must border my own land at Whitelow. The grass was knee-high and speckled with late buttercups, but I was transported by that first sight of the Delafosse estate. In its situation alone, the Croxons had chosen our new home well. I dreamed for a moment of myself and Michael making a great fortune, and no longer renting Delafosse Hall but owning every inch of it, my inheritance spinning gold from cotton. Turning back to view the Hall I took a sharp breath; it was as massive and ancient as a child's dream of a castle, the bulk of its walls carpeted in greenery, the diamond-leaded windows sparkling in picturesque stone mullions. True, the barley-twist chimneys leaned askew, and the roofs sagged beneath the weight of years, but the shell of it was magnificent. It cast a strange possessive mood upon me. I remembered Michael's irritation at the house the previous night, and his eagerness to leave. Somehow I had to entice Michael into this shared dream of a happy life here, beside me.
Determined to explore the park, I followed the nearest path. After walking through a deep wood for a good while I emerged into the sunlight by a round hill surmounted by a two-story tower. A hunting lodge, Mrs. Croxon had called it, but I thought it more a folly. It had a fantastical quality, with four miniature turrets, each topped with a verdigris-tarnished dome. Above the doorway stood a sundial drawn upon a disc representing a blazing sun. It was embellished with a script I thought might be Latin: FERREA VIRGA EST, UMBRATILIS MOTUS. I wondered whether Michael might know the meaning, or Anne's husband perhaps. As for the sundial's accuracy, the morning light was too weak to cast a line of shadow.”
Martine Bailey, A Taste for Nightshade

Kate Morton
“She sat on the little iron garden seat in the clearing at the top and looked down at the strange garden of her mysterious grandmother, the patched-up house beyond. She wondered what her mother and grandmother were speaking of, why had they come to visit today, but no matter how she twisted the questions in her mind, she could divine no answers.
After a time, the distraction of the garden proved too great. Her questions dropped away, and she began to harvest pregnant Busy Lizzie pods while a black cat watched from a distance, pretending disinterest. When she had a nice collection, Cassandra climbed up onto the lowest bough of the mango tree in the back corner of the yard, pods cupped gently in her hand, and began to pop them, one by one. Enjoying the cold, gooey seeds that sprayed across her fingers, the pussycat's surprise when a pod shell dropped between her paws, her zeal as she mistook it for a grasshopper.”
Kate Morton, The Forgotten Garden

Liz Braswell
“Large-leafed plants at the edge of the jungle reflected the sun rather than soaking it up, their dark green surfaces sparkling white in the sunlight. Some of the smaller ones had literally low-hanging fruit, like jewels from a fairy tale. Behind them was an extremely inviting path into the jungle with giant white shells for stepping-stones. And rather than the muggy, disease-filled forests of books that seemed to kill so many explorers, here the air was cool and pleasant and not too moist- although Wendy could hear the distant tinkle of water splashing from a height.
"Oh! Is that the Tonal Spring? Or Diamond Falls?" Wendy withered breathlessly. "Luna, let's go see!"
She made herself not race ahead down the path, but moved at a leisurely, measured pace. Like an adventuress sure of herself but wary of her surroundings.
(And yet, as she wouldn't realize until later, she hadn't thought to grab her stockings or shoes. Those got left in her hut without even a simple goodbye.)
Everywhere she looked, Wendy found another wonder of Never Land, from the slow camosnails to the gently nodding heads of the fritillary lilies. She smiled, imagining John as he peered over his glasses and the snail faded away into the background in fear- or Michael getting his nose covered in honey-scented lily pollen as he enthusiastically sniffed the pretty flowers.
The path continued, winding around a boulder into a delightful little clearing, sandy but padded here and there with tuffets of emerald green grass and clumps of purple orchids. It was like a desert island vacation of a perfect English meadow.”
Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning

Craig D. Lounsbrough
“Looking back, I now realize that I left home in search of all the things that were right in the very place I left.”
Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Perhaps there is no thrill so great as that which comes with a walk in the freshness of morning air.”
Hellen Keller

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