Quotes About Journey

Tus ideas sobre empezar de nuevo. O las de otro. No se empieza de nuevo. Ese es el quid. Cada paso que das es para siempre. No puedes eliminarlo. ¿Entiendes lo que te digo?

Too soon old and too late smart. You dont know anything till it gets here. You told me once that maybe the end of the road has nothing to do with the road. Maybe it doesnt even know there's been a road. You ready?

They put their animals to the ford and crossed, the water up under the horses' bellies and the horses picking their way over the rocks and glancing wildly upstream where a cataract thundered out of the darkening forest into the flecked and seething pool below.

Now come days of begging, days of theft. Days of riding where there rode no soul save he.

With full dark he came forth, a solitary traveler going south. He walked all night.

Every step you take is forever

Zwei Tage später kamen sie zu einem Tidefluss, wo eine eingestürzte Brücke im langsam sich bewegenden Wasser lag. Sie saßen auf der kaputten Böschungsmauer der Straße und sahen zu, wie der Fluss zurückströmte und über das eiserne Gitterwerk spielte. Er blickte über das Wasser auf das Land dahinter. Was machen wir jetzt, Papa?, fragte er. Ja, was?, sagte der Junge.

In die schmutzigen Decken gehüllt, gingen sie durch die Straßen. Er hielt den Revolver auf Hüfthöhe und den Jungen bei der Hand. AM anderen Ende der Stadt stießen sie auf ein für sich stehendes Haus auf einer Wiese und gingen durch sämtliche Zimmer. Sie trafen auf sich selbst in einem Spiegel, und er hätte beinahe den Revolver gehoben. Das sind wir Papa, flüsterte der Junge. Das sind wir.

Let me put it to you this way. As the vicar said to the choirboy. To the seasoned traveler a destination is at best a rumor.

Lumea nu are nici un nume. Numele de cerros, sierras si deserturi exista numai pe harti. Le punem nume ca sa nu ne ratacim. Dar am inventat aceste nume tocmai pentru ca am ratacit deja drumul. Lumea nu se poate pierde. Noi ne pierdem. Si tocmai pentru ca noi am pus numele acestea si am numit aceste coordonate, numele lor nu ne poate salva. Nu pot regasi drumul in locul nostru.

He rode all night and in the first gray light with the horse badly drawn down he walked it out upon a rise beneath which he could make out the shape of the town, the yellow windows in the old mud walls where the first lamps were lit, the narrow spires of smoke standing vertically into the windless dawn so still the village seemed to hang by threads from the darkness.

IN FOUR DAYS' riding he crossed the Pecos at Iraan Texas and rode up out of the river breaks where the pumpjacks in the Yates Field ranged against the skyline rose and dipped like mechanical birds. Like great primitive birds welded up out of iron by hearsay in a land perhaps where such birds once had been.

The boy who rode on slightly before him sat a horse not only as if he'd been born to it which he was but as if were he begot by malice or mischance into some queer land where horses never were he would have found them anyway.

dwindling slowly on the road behind him like some storybook peddler from an antique time, dark and bent and spider thin and soon to vanish forever.

They rode back, Rawlins leading the riderless horse by the bridlereins. Blevins was sitting in the middle of the road. He still had his hat on. Whoo, he said when he saw them. I'm drunkern shit. They sat their horses and looked down at him. Can you ride or not? said Rawlins. Does a bear shit in the woods? Hell yes I can ride. I was ridin when I fell off. He stood uncertainly and peered about.

They rode in a narrow enfilade along a trail strewn with the dry round turds of goats and they rode with their faces averted from the rock wall and the bakeoven air which it rebated, the slant black shapes of the mounted men stenciled across the stone with a definition austere and implacable like shapes capable of violating their covenant with the flesh that authored them and continuing autonomous across the naked rock without reference to sun or man or god.

I was a Mormon. Then I converted to the church. Then I became I dont know what. Then I became me.

Ac?tt?, deÄŸil mi? dedi oÄŸlan. Evet. Ac?tt?. Sahiden cesur musun? Orta karar. Yapt???n en cesurca ÅŸey ne? Yola kanl? bir balgam tükürdü. Bu sabah uyanmak, dedi. Sahiden mi? Hay?r. Bana ald?rma. Gel hadi, gidelim.

After a while he said: It's not about knowin where you are. It's about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. Or anybody's. You dont start over. That's what it's about. Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it. You understand what I'm saying?

No todo el mundo necesita tener una razón para ir a alguna parte.

We dont move through the days, Squire. They move through us. Until the last cruel crank of the ratchet.

For this will to deceive that is in things luminous may manifest itself likewise in retrospect and so by sleight of some fixed part of a journey already accomplished may also post men to fraudulent destinies.

But a fast car and an open road can give you a sensation that's hard to duplicate elsewhere or otherwise.

You will see. It is difficult even for brothers to travel together on such a voyage. The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all.