Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose. 

I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas and land on barbarous coasts.

One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.

The atavistic urge toward danger persists and its satisfaction is called adventure.

What one man can invent another can discover.

When they shout “Long live progress,” always ask, “Progress of what?”

A man of genius makes no mistakes. His errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.

Nature has planted in our minds an insatiable desire to seek the truth.

They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.

What one man can invent another can discover.