欧宝娱乐

“He gave my hair a final, gentle tug and turned away. I watched him go, Hunger and longing and that strange squirmy feeling twisting my insides. Crawling into my tent, I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to sleep, to forget Ezekiel Crosse. His touch. His warmth. And how badly I wanted to sink my fangs into his throat and truly mine.”
― Julie Kagawa, The Immortal Rules

“To wake up on a gloriously bright morning, in a tent pitched beneath spruce trees, and to look out lazily and sleepily for a moment from the open side of the tent, across the dead camp-fire of the night before, to the river, where the light of morning rests and perhaps some early-rising[240] native is gliding in his birch canoe; to go to the river and freshen one's self with the cold water, and yell exultingly to the gulls and hell-divers, in the very joy of living; or to wake at night, when you have rolled in your blankets in the frost-stricken dying grass without a tent, and to look up through the leaves above to the dark sky and the flashing stars, and hear far off the call of a night bird or the howl of a wolf: this is the poetry, the joy of a wild and roving existence, which cannot come too often”
― Josiah Edward Spurr, Through the Yukon Gold Diggings

“All right, he thought, take one thing at a time. Just one thing.
I poked my leg with an arrow.
There. Good. I pulled the arrow out. My leg still works. It must not have been a broadhead because it didn't go in very deep. Good.
My tent collapsed. There. Another thing. I'm in a tent and it collapsed. I just have to find the front zipper and get out and climb up the bank. Easy now, easy.
Something hit me on the head. What? Something big that thunked. The canoe. The wind picked up the canoe and it hit me.”
― Gary Paulsen

“Mum took me to the park a couple of times last week so that I could run. That was a waste of time though, it takes hours to get there and when you finally do, well, there's no room to do anything really, what with all the tents pitched everywhere. Mum says there used to be grass, but I don't see where.”
― Martin Pond, Dark Steps

“My tent doesn鈥檛 look like much but, as an estate agent might say, 鈥淚t is air-conditioned and has exceptional location.”
― Fennel Hudson, A Waterside Year: Fennel's Journal No. 2

“I thought I was looking at a building at first: that it was some kind of tent, as high as a country church, made of grey and pink canvas that flapped in the gusts of storm wind, in that orange sky: a lopsided canvas structure aged by weather and ripped by time. And then it turned and I saw its face...”
― Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

“It's possible that Knight believed he was one of the few sane people left. He was confounded by the idea that passing the prime of your life in a cubicle, spending hours a day at a computer, in exchange for money, was considered acceptable, but relaxing in a tent in the woods was disturbed. Observing the trees was indolent; cutting them down was enterprising. What did Knight do for a living? He lived for a living.”
― Michael Finkel, The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit

“Newly married, Justin and I evacuated the woods where we had once lived as nomads. We would no longer pass sweet breezy days in our sleek tent, in mossy hills and sun, showering in waterfalls. That era was now our memory, a shared dream.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“You are never homeless with a tent and a sleeping bag.”
― Steven Magee

“A bad day camping is still better than a good day working.”
― Mary66

“He kissed my mitten. 鈥淭hen we鈥檒l get you to New York,鈥� he said. He described Manhattan as an epicenter of creativity, a midnight tar-paved island where the young artists of the world go to pursue themselves. Listening, growing warmer, I peered up through the tent鈥檚 mesh roof at faraway stars, faint glitter, giddy.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“That night in our tent, Justin told me how, ten thousand years ago, human beings were migrant鈥攚e were like the birds. The average human would see only about a hundred people in her lifetime and would know each one profoundly, deeply bonded. Today, humans in cities will see a hundred beings in just minutes, naming them strangers, a dehumanizing designation.

The next morning, I woke to wet rocks glittering in the slanted light, the day鈥檚 warmth shining in bars through the sparse canopy of maples. Happy here, I began to fear our next destination, hectic Manhattan鈥攁 surreal flip to witnessing ten thousand people a day. In these deep thickets, we walked a path that was streamlined, simple and clear.”
― Aspen Matis

“Campgrounds are never comfortable. They are merely less awful than other options. In normal circumstances, if told that the nearest available toilet was half a mile away, up a dirt path frequented by animals in gastric distress, one would lock the doors and speed to civilization. When a tent or camper is involved, one is jubilant. At least this site had flush toilets!”
― Thomm Quackenbush, Holidays with Bigfoot

“A tent has a collapsed tomorrow.”
― Mantaranjot Mangat, Plotless

“Six thirty and I could hear the gulls coming and going over the cliff and the now familiar early-morning battle with boots and tent flaps took far too long. As soon as I stood up I was overwhelmed. Not only by the desire to sit on a white, shiny, flushing toilet, but mainly by a wave of vertigo. Somehow in the dark and fog of the night before we had pitched the tent two meters from the edge of the cliff. Tent, path, scrap of grass, hundred-meter-drop. I regained my balance and looked for somewhere slightly disguised. All I could see was an open hillside with a small clump of gorse bushes. There was no waiting; it would have to do. I frantically tried to dig a hole with the heel of my boot - we hadn't carried a trowel for this, far too much weight and anyway we'd always find a public toilet. My thumb ripped through the waist of my leggings in the rush as I squatted behind the spikey sharp gorse with as much relief as Renton in 'Trainspotting'...
'Morning. You found somewhere to camp then?”
― Raynor Winn, The Salt Path

“Going to a festival?鈥� asked the sales assistant curiously.
鈥業鈥檓 going to a salsa festival, yes,鈥� replied Cameron.
鈥楽alsa? said the surprised young man. You can鈥檛 do that in this tent. You can barely stand up!鈥� he answered.
鈥楾hat鈥檚 when I salsa best,鈥� said Cameron and strode off to pack.”
― Jennifer Lynch, Salsa

“As time passed I started to enjoy the campsite and it was clear that after decades of illness, I was actually seeing improved health! I was spending most days outside and sleeping outdoors in the tent. I had never done this before for such a prolonged time!”
― Steven Magee, Magee鈥檚 Disease

“Dr John Nash Ott had reported improved health that an outdoor lifestyle can bring in his books. He believed it could cure prolonged illness. I had a similar experience. I had achieved what had been impossible during the previous decade, a return to the weight I was in my thirties. I had far more energy and far less days of chronic fatigue. I was mentally alert and suffered far less forgetfulness and confusion. I slept better on a two stage sleep cycle that Dr John Nash Ott had reported as an effect of the outdoor lifestyle. I would go to bed earlier, typically a couple of hours after sunset and wake up around 1-2 AM before falling asleep again until morning twilight. My body had automatically aligned with the twilight times. It was common in the morning to be awake in bed listening to the morning chorus of the birds and the 鈥淐ock-a-doodle-do!鈥� of the roosters.”
― Steven Magee, Magee鈥檚 Disease

“After living in a tent in the Hawaiian tropical jungle for five months, I had a hard time adjusting back to a living in a home!”
― Steven Magee

“I was becoming feral after living in the Hawaiian tropical jungle for five months!”
― Steven Magee

“Dr John Nash Ott had reported in his books that prolonged tent camping could cure illness.”
― Steven Magee, Hypoxia, Mental Illness & Chronic Fatigue

“His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight a moment later as he shoved through the flaps and swore. 'Maybe I should sleep out there.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Please.'

A way, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. 'You know Tamlin can be... sensitive about things.'

'He can also be a pain in my ass,' I snapped, and slithered under the blankets. 'If you yield to him on every bit of paranoia and territorialism, you'll just make it worse.'

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. 'I think it's made worse because you two haven't... I mean, you haven't, right?'

I stiffened, tugging the blanket tighter onto my shoulders. 'No. I don't want to be touched like that- not for a while.'

His silence was heavy- sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. 'I'm sorry,' he said. And I wondered what else he was apologising for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight a moment later as he shoved through the flaps and swore. 'Maybe I should sleep out there.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Please.'

A wary, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. 'You know Tamlin can be... sensitive about things.'

'He can also be a pain in my ass,' I snapped, and slithered under the blankets. 'If you yield to him on every bit of paranoia and territorialism, you'll just make it worse.'

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. 'I think it's made worse because you two haven't... I mean, you haven't, right?'

I stiffened, tugging the blanket tighter onto my shoulders. 'No. I don't want to be touched like that- not for a while.'

His silence was heavy- sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. 'I'm sorry,' he said. And I wondered what else he was apologising for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Give me a tent in a deserted place, give me a dark night, and I'll tell you what a terribly local, how pitifully ineffective and insignificant life you have!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan