Quotes About Journey

Some people are born where they belong, and some have to find their way there," said Alma Rivers. "There's no difference after that.

Some people are born where they belong, and some have to find their way there

Jane reached Western New York in the dark. It had been a seven-hour drive, but she had stopped for meals and breaks, and then had taken time to sleep for two hours at a rest stop. The urgency she had been feeling since the night the ancient woman had come to her in her dream seemed to burn in her until she had worn herself out. Now she was feeling stronger.

May I share with you a formula that in my judgment will help you and help me to journey well through mortality... First, fill your mind with truth; second, fill your life with service; and third, fill your heart with love.

in the snow on this or that side of the tunnel

klappt ihr Notizbuch zu und schaut aus dem runden Flugzeugfenster. Unter ihnen glitzert das weiche Abendlicht der untergehenden Sonne auf dem Atlantik. In wenigen Minuten werden sie in New York landen. Das hat der Pilot vorhin durchgesagt. Sprotte schnallt sich an und weckt den Siebzehnjährigen neben ihr. »Aufwachen, Fred, wir sind gleich da.«

The thrill of walking comes not so much from movement—except for the initial turning of a step out the door into a journey—but from its gifts of freedom and nonconformity. In a world built on speed, walking somewhere is an act of rebellion. You reject every type of contraption that your forebears have invented to get you there faster—including the bicycle—for your own two legs. You head out into the world while turning your back on its ways.

Some people say they haven't yet found themselves. But the self is not something one finds; it is something one

The race is short between the cradle and the grave!

The world is but a great inn, where we are to stay a night or two, and be gone; what madness is it so to set our heart upon our inn, as to forget our home? 1.Consider

I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we shall be found.

Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America — that we are fixed and certain only when we are in movement.

A stone, a leaf, an unfound door.

Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain only when we are in movement.

Man is born to live, to suffer, and to die, and what befalls him is a tragic lot. There is no denying this in the final end. But we must deny it all along the way.

Perhaps this is our strange and haunting paradox here in America -- that we are fixed and certain only when we are in movement. At any rate, that is how it seemed to young George Webber, who was never so assured of his purpose as when he was going somewhere on a train. And he never had the sense of home so much as when he felt that he was going there. It was only when he got there that his homelessness began.

Once in a while you find yourself in an odd situation. You get into it by degrees and in the most natural way but, when you are right in the midst of it, you are suddenly astonished and ask yourself how in the world it all came about.

SOME PEOPLE BELIEVE IN FATE, OTHERS DON'T. I DO, and I don't. It may seem at times as if invisible fingers move us about like puppets on strings. But for sure, we are not born to be dragged along. We can grab the strings ourselves and adjust our course at every crossroad, or take off at any little trail into the unknown.

The Kon-Tiki expedition opened my eyes to what the ocean really is. It is a conveyor and not an isolator.

It was a great moment on board when two large boobies were spotted above the horizon to westward

But you can't navigate a raft," he added. "It goes sideways and backward and round as the wind takes it.

The Kon-Tiki expedition opened my eyes to what the ocean really is. It is a conveyor and not an isolator. The ocean has been man's highway from the days he built the first buoyant ships, long before he tamed the horse, invented wheels, and cut roads through the virgin jungles.

Even in times of the most entrenched rationalism, there lives in every man a little Alexander who never managed to conquer his Eudaimon Arabia.

California, here I come.