Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Atlas. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Atlas Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Kei Miller,Aldo Leopold,J.r.r. Tolkien,Jonathan Safran Foer,Christopher Hawke for you to enjoy and share.
How much
have we not seen or felt or heard
because there was no word
for it -- at least no word we knew?
We speak to navigate ourselves
away from dark corners and we become,
each one of us, cartographers.
What avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map?
I wisely started with a map.
A map such as that one is worth many hundreds, and as luck will have it, thousands of dollars. But more than this, it is a remembrance of that time before our planet was so small. When this map was made, I thought, you could live without knowing where you were not living.
Sometimes there's no map when you go to new places, you have to make unexpected turns, but the beauty is these places are new.
Maps are a way of organizing wonder.
When I want an opinion, I'll get it from my peers - from men of vision, like our great railroad builders ... Stanford, Huntington, Dinsmore ... fellows with imaginations broad enough to span the continent.
No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.
I found a big crate with the letters MAP on the side. According to the manifest, it stands for 'Mobile Assault Package.' Apparently navy-speak for a big box of guns,
I have settled down in this border area; I am trying to find distinct standards of shape, and I long to experience, formulate, and evoke this dark, heavy, tranquillity.
North-ish." A pause, and then: "Is that Terra for I'm lost-ish?
Many cases of twentieth-century American map geekdom, it seems, began the same way that many twentieth-century Americans began: conceived in the backseats of Buicks
There are no maps. You can't map a sense of humor.
In Iceland, you can see the contours of the mountains wherever you go, and the swell of the hills, and always beyond that the horizon. And there's this strange thing: you're never sort of hidden; you always feel exposed in that landscape. But it makes it very beautiful as well.
After a certain quantity, photos apparently taken by chance, postcards chosen according to a passing mood, begin to trace an itinerary, to map the imaginary country that stretches out before us.
The deep map configures narratives. It is a matrix of intertexual storytelling, charting our movements through the landscape.
Even if he was happier in Asia than he'd been in Latin America, the wanderlust still worked on my father's insides like a disease. One of the most recurrent memories of my childhood is of him sitting in his armchair in the evenings, poring over atlases the way other fathers read newspapers or books.
The Ainu youth came upon a band of Ainu hunters passing through the area. "What is this area called?" he asked them.
"Do you really think this asshole of a terrain even deserves a name?" they replied.
We have reached the open sea, with some charts; and the firmament.
The four cardinal points are three: South and North.
There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives.
A map, it is said, organizes wonder.
Naples sitteth by the sea, keystone of an arch of azure.
nook in the rocks. From this place, we are invisible but have a clear
When you are writing a complicated story, you have got to have a map.
Bearings
You are my dear compass,
who knows no way but true,
so when I'm lost and drifting,
I find myself in you.
Yet when I ask you, fearful,
if I should set you free,
imagine my surprise to hear
you take your north from me.
New Jersey is to New York what Santo Domingo is to the United States. I always felt that those two landscapes, not only just the landscapes themselves but their relationships to what we would call 'a center' or 'the center of the universe,' has in some ways defined my artistic and critical vision.
Just as none of us is outside or beyond geography, none of us is completely free from the struggle over geography. That struggle is complex and interesting because it is not only about soldiers and cannons but also about ideas, about forms, about images and imaginings.
A map says to you.
Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt me not ...
I am the earth in the palm of your hand.
We are at the crossroads, my little outlaw,
and this is the map of my heart, the landscape
after cruelty
Somewhere nere Ogallala, about six hours into that majestic, maddening prairie, I realize that half an hour has passed since I've seen a vehicle in either direction.
Oh, I think, as I finally see a pair of headlights draw nigh in the eastbound lane, so this must be where the West begins.
Mapmaker mapmaker
make me a map
one to one scale,
without a single gap.
Map every rock,
every thought, every tree
and erase all the territory.
As I sat opposite the Treasury Bench the ministers reminded me of one of those marine landscapes not very unusual on the coasts of South America. You behold a range of exhausted volcanoes.
East, to the dawn, or west or south or north! Loose rein upon the neck of-and forth!
Tell me, O muse, of travellers far and wide
At present, [in the desert] an exasperating clarity reigns. The sky has become less visible than water in a jar. Black peaks, spines of granite, a twisted tree are sculpted in this atmosphere basted with reflections. All that remains: a countryside of imperishable contours.
I have always preferred maps to books. They don't answer you back. Never throw a map away.
My work often begins as little internal dares, wondering if I can pull something off. So I spent a few years drawing these stories together, trying to build a Pangea of what began as separate continents.
I had loved studying the map because it was a printed explanation of where I had been placed on earth. It was a love song to location, a psalm of praise to both measurement and extent.
'The Panorama' is also the last place anywhere in New York where the World Trade Center still stands, whole, as it stood in the early morning of September 11. I can also see the corner where I saw the first tower fall and howled out loud. Seeing the buildings again here is uplifting, healing.
Providence seems to call me to the regions beyond
Let's run away."
"To where?"
"Alaska."
"What's in Alaska?"
"No clue," I whispered. "Find out with me.
Her face is seamed with a million wrinkles like the map of a state where the geography hasn't settled down - rivers and canyons along her brown leather cheeks, ridges below the knob of her chin, the sinuous raised drumlin of bone at the base of her forehead, the caves of her eyes.
Cities and roads
I have never seen
Are in the background of your photos
Yet, I don't feel
How faraway you are
The venal herd.
[Lat., Venale pecus.]
I can see it now: me holding a map, scratching my head, trying to figure out how I ended up on Venus.
Like world describers before me, those mapmakers in the seventeenth centure, I had laid down my first faintly drawn border. With that one tentative mark, my world expanded by a few freeing degrees.
The map had been the first form of misdirection, for what is a map but a way of emphasizing some things and making other things invisible?
I'm going to run away," she said.
"Where to?"
"Atlantis," she said.
"Where's that?"
"No one really knows where it is," she said. "But I'll find it and then I'll go and then they'll worry.
Topography displays no favorites; North's as near as West.
More delicate than the historians' are the map-makers' colors.
Rome - the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
With the countless chevrons of whitecaps. Soon enough, the navigators can discern the low moonlit lumps of islands ranged along the horizon. France.
no ordinary island, and
The world of wonders!
There must be something innate about maps, about this one specific way of picturing our world and our relation to it, that charms us, calls to us, won't let us look anywhere else in the room if there's a map on the wall.
The horizon bounded by a propitious sky, azure, marbled with pearly white.
The world can doubtless never be well known by theory: practice is absolutely necessary; but surely it is of great use to a young man, before he sets out for that country, full of mazes, windings, and turnings, to have at least a general map of it, made by some experienced traveler.
Though the words Canada East on the map stretch over many rivers and lakes and unexplored wildernesses, the actual Canada, which might be the colored portion of the map, is but a little clearing on the banks of the river, which one of those syllables would more than cover.
The countryside they
A single glance at the map will make the reader acquainted with the position of the eastern coast of the island of Great Britain, as connected with the shores of the opposite continent.
Folk like to pretend they know everything about the world. Rich folk especially. Maps are great for that. [ ... ] You don't have blanks on your map, so the folks who draw them shade in a piece and write, 'The Eld.' You might as well burn a hole right through the map for what good that does.
To put a city in a book, to put the world on one sheet of paper
maps are the most condensed humanized spaces of all ... They make the landscape fit indoors, make us masters of sights we can't see and spaces we can't cover.
Lip. I have a sudden vivid picture of the earth as flat, a tray, covered in marbles, and someone is tilting it, and the marbles are rolling, cascading, from east to west.
There are high places that don't invite us, sharp shapes, glacier-scraped faces, whole ranges whose given names slip off. Any such relation as we try to make refuses to take ... I'm giddy with thinking where thinking can't stick.
No Names
Maybe a map is a good thing / On those days I feel / Like I'm riding a rhino up a mountain.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state.
Destination should not be determined based on a map you have. destination should be determined first, only thyen you can find a right map.
Japanese maps tend to come in two varieties: small, schematic, and bewildering; and large, fantastically detailed, and bewildering.
Maps can be a remarkably powerful tool for understanding the world and how it works, but they show only what you ask them to.
After we flew across the country we
got in bed, laid our bodies
delicately together, like a map, laid
face to face, East to West, my
San Francisco against your New York
To ask for a map is to say, "Tell me a story."
The current coastline of Labrador, or Norway, or for that matter southern Chile. Elsewhere on the map, western Antarctica was an archipelago somewhat resembling the Philippines.
south, moving slowly. It looked something like a huge blue-gray shower curtain being drawn along by the hand of God. You could just barely see through it, enough to make
The map we made of the 3,000-year-old city of Tanis requires no imagination. It has buildings, streets, admin complexes, houses - clear as day.
Ireland, Ireland. That cloud in the west, that coming storm.
Atalanta in Calydon
Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It, makes us wander, wander earth around, To fly that tyrant Thought. As Atlas groan'd The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour.
Inside this clay jug there are canyons and pine mountains,
and the maker of canyons and mountains!
All seven oceans are inside, and hundreds of millions of stars.
South to a town named Medina, north of Bellingham, Washington. Today,
Thou oughtest to know, since thou livest near the gods.
[Lat., Scire, deos quoniam propius contingis, oportet.]
This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.
lithographic
landscape beyond the forgotten
ocean of the innermost ear
where one boy, with a wolf for a heart, wants
to eat the songbird nesting inside the other
I have a trunk containing continents.
We were just looking at maps...Maps-- Rick Riordan
Westward, ever westward.
The inspiration for my work comes from areas spanning the stark regions of Newfoundland to the lush and fertile valleys of the South. The landscapes offer me form; the people I've met in these places give them color.
Our
world in that living room with its window framing my beloved Elburz Mountains became our
sanctuary, our self-contained universe, mocking the reality of black-scarved, timid faces in the city
that sprawled below.
The map was one thing and the land quite another.
Blissful Islands
A landscape image cuts across all political and national boundaries, it transcends the constraints of language and culture.
heading west on the 495.
What place is so rugged and so homely that there is no beauty; if you only have a sensibility to beauty?
Its the map of my childhood, my sadness, my Eden, my hell and home. when I look at it now, my heart swells with gratitude, then shrinks with disgust.
There are maps in me but I am lost, and there are skies in me but they are dead.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
Number forty-nine has been mapped.
Betelgeuse, Achenar. Orion. Aquila. Centre the Cross and you have a steady compass. But there's no compass for my ever disoriented soul, only ever beckoning ghost lights. In the one sure direction, to the one sure end.
Empire and liberty.
A landscape that has the power to ask anyone, at any time, to measure all the hidden parts of themselves.
East or West, Home is Best
North or South, Hand to Mouth