Quotes about explore, page 2
Looking For a Freshness
I live to explore!
Not to sit in the midst of discoveries...
To be compared by others,
As the way my life should be!
I'm not one to reminisce,
With nostalgic inclinations.
To plagiarize legitimate activities...
Like others finding justification,
To qualify the air they breathe!
I live to explore.
Adventure and learn.
Not to rehearse and regurgitate...
Someone's steps done before.
So many do that and call 'that' creation!
As if to re-invent...
Stirs imaginations!
I live to explore.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Search Of Truth!
Religion, philosophy and science search for truth;
The approach of search of each may be different;
But the object of search for everyone is the same!
Religion by devotion tries to explore great truth;
Philosophy intellectually tries to know the truth;
Science experimentally tries to infer to know truth.
Spiritualists super-consciously explore to realize truth;
Mystics by Nature mysticism experience existing truth;
Poets using imagination explore the existence of truth!
Emotionally, intellectually and spiritually all try in life
To know, realize, experience and feel truth in all;
Understanding that is the main purpose of life for all!
Whatever be the approach of all in search of truth
Nature is the only link for everyone’s approach here!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Mapping The Reef
It wasn't so long ago, that Google mapped the earth;
Now they are mapping the world, way below the surf.
Very soon, we'll all get the chance to virtually explore
The Great Barrier Reef, on the Pacific Ocean's floor.
Visitors will soon be able to explore the hidden depths,
Without all the aggro of getting their hair soaking wet.
Around the Great Reef, they will soon be able to roam,
Without ever having left the comfort of their cosy home.
They'll be able to explore the Reef on a computer screen;
Eco-tourism: they'll hit the very heights of going ‘green.'
By their virtual visit, The Reef won't be further disturbed;
But the visitor's excitement will be very seriously curbed.
Nothing can ever quite beat experiencing The Reef for real;
Nothing can ever replace the excitement, or the total thrill.
This massive coral reef, boasts so many amazing features;
It bursts with life, in the forms of both plants and creatures.
[...] Read more
poem by Angela Wybrow
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No Man's Land
“No man’s land” I was intrigued and puzzled at this statement
Not an inch is left all over land including pavements
Not even impenetrable lands including poles
Even though they stand apart yet we found in some loop holes
For rich arguments sake, we can create some land
Where humans are not allowed to stay and land
As it exists in North Pole to carry out experiments
If same is followed else where can be seen as heavenly sent
Not a single stretch is left where we have not staked claim
Sky is fully covered with parking zones and slots
Each degree or angle is photographed and calibrated
Not a single inch of space is left alone or unrelated
We have fought enough on this holy land
Not we eye on distant objects with clear stand
At home level we have enough of misery and starvation
Yet it is considered as mile stone and matter of elation
[...] Read more
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Borough. Letter IX: Amusements
OF our Amusements ask you?--We amuse
Ourselves and friends with seaside walks and views,
Or take a morning ride, a novel, or the news;
Or, seeking nothing, glide about the street,
And so engaged, with various parties meet;
Awhile we stop, discourse of wind and tide
Bathing and books, the raffle, and the ride;
Thus, with the aid which shops and sailing give,
Life passes on; 'tis labour, but we live.
When evening comes, our invalids awake,
Nerves cease to tremble, heads forbear to ache;
Then cheerful meals the sunken spirits raise,
Cards or the dance, wine, visiting, or plays.
Soon as the season comes, and crowds arrive,
To their superior rooms the wealthy drive;
Others look round for lodging snug and small,
Such is their taste--they've hatred to a hall:
Hence one his fav'rite habitation gets,
The brick-floor'd parlour which the butcher lets;
Where, through his single light, he may regard
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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The Village: Book I
The Village Life, and every care that reigns
O'er youthful peasants and declining swains;
What labour yields, and what, that labour past,
Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last;
What form the real picture of the poor,
Demand a song--the Muse can give no more.
Fled are those times, when, in harmonious strains,
The rustic poet praised his native plains:
No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse,
Their country's beauty or their nymphs' rehearse;
Yet still for these we frame the tender strain,
Still in our lays fond Corydons complain,
And shepherds' boys their amorous pains reveal,
The only pains, alas! they never feel.
On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign,
If Tityrus found the Golden Age again,
Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong,
Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song?
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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The Highlanders: Part IV
NOW Winter pours his terrors o'er the plain,
And icy barriers close the wild domain,
From the fierce North the sweeping blast descends,
And drifted snow in wild confusion blends;
The Mountain-Cataract, whose thundering sound
Made echoes tremble in their caves around,
Now dashing with diminish'd majesty,
In frozen state suspended seems on high;
While in the midst a small contracted stream
Tinkles like rills that lull the shepherd's dream.
The River crusted o'er, and hid in snow,
Unfaithful tempts the traveller below;
While pools and boiling springs, unsafe beneath,
Betray th' unwary to the snares of death.
How awful now appears Night's silent reign!
Where lofty mountains bound the solemn scene.
While Nature, wrapt in chilly bright disguise,
And sunk in deep repose, unconscious lies;
And through the pure cerulean vault above,
In lucid order constellations move:
[...] Read more
poem by Anne MacVicar Grant
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The Judgment Of Paris
1
Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove,
A scene for love and solitude design'd;
Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove,
Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined.
2
All up the craggy cliffs, that tower'd to heaven,
Green waved the murmuring pines on every side;
Save where, fair opening to the beam of even,
A dale sloped gradual to the valley wide.
3
Echo'd the vale with many a cheerful note;
The lowing of the herds resounding long,
[...] Read more
poem by James Beattie
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 8
And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide world–when sudden shades of night
Move o'er the ethereal vault; the starry train
Paint their dim forms beneath the placid main;
While earth and heaven, around the hero's eye,
Seem arch'd immense, like one surrounding sky.
Still, from the Power superior splendors shone,
The height emblazing like a radiant throne;
To converse sweet the soothing shades invite,
And on the guide the hero fix'd his sight.
Kind messenger of Heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive labouring search of man?
If man by wisdom form'd hath power to reach
These opening truths that following ages teach,
Step after step, thro' devious mazes, wind,
And fill at last the measure of the mind,
Why did not Heaven, with one unclouded ray,
All human arts and reason's powers display?
That mad opinions, sects and party strife
Might find no place t'imbitter human life.
[...] Read more
poem by Joel Barlow
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The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore--
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;--vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow--sorrow for the lost Lenore--
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me--filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door--
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."
[...] Read more
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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