2,981 Quotes About Adventure

How do I pack my rucksack? More like a gambler than a minimalist. I am not someone who likes solving puzzles. Because I never leave anything I might want behind, I first pack anything that falls into my hands. Then as if looking for a prize, I put in a hand, rummage about and pull objects out at random until the rucksack reaches the correct weight. With this process I always have sufficient spare clothing.

Oh say, where lies true lasting happiness?In evening rest? In friendly glance? 'Tis more:In sailing from the mire, the reeds, the mast,The mighty ocean's vastness to adore.Oh what is life? 'Tis nothing but a dream,A vast and enigmatic flowing stream.Such tender feelings fill my heaving breastI know not how or where they'll come to rest;My cares are multitudinous and sore,I long to feel the friendly rudder in my paw.

As a child I would play with such imagination that the ‘real’ world was never real at all. It was full of mystery, adventure and possibility.

The glaring light of the desert sun exposed a person's true face. I could no longer run or hide or pretend to be anything other than what I was.

For years, in between our short trips overseas, my husband Dave and I started talking about a different kind of trip, a long-term trip. Both of us loved the food, wine, and people of Italy, and we began talking/dreaming about someday living in Italy for an entire year. We named this dream our Beautiful Dream—our “Bel Sogno.

The locals appropriately named it "Death Island". Some historians even refer to this period as the Herero and Nama genocide. Knowing the history gives this place an eerie, almost host-like aura. Not sure, in fact, if want to be sleeping here tonight.

He stops about 30 m away in a cloud of dust, turns and goes off, trumpeting loudly. Seconds later he comes rushing back back again, throwing a full-on elephant teenage-tantrum, even ripping up vegetation and throwing it into the air with his trunk.

No one dies listening to Enrique Iglesias

We came to a tiny hamlet. There were no more than six little houses nestling in the deep steep valley. Smoke, rising through the rough wooden roof-slats, made the homes look cosy and inviting but we didn’t expect a welcome there.