Quotes About Journey

My purpose? What is my purpose?

Life isn't a book, Heath! There's no guarantee of a happy ending," I said.

It began with a memory. Decades, and then centuries fell away leaving Lenobia young and naïve again, and in the cargo hold of the ship that had carried her from France to America—from one world to another. It was during that journey that Lenobia had met Martin, the man who should have been her Mate for his entire life. Instead he had died too young and had taken her love to the grave with him.

the girls' dorm to the main school building, I decided

She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.

Half a league Half a league Half a league onward With a hey-nonny-nonny And a hot cha-cha.

I really preferred to walk. I have only just landed in England from New York, and it's quite a treat to walk on an English country road again.

Success comes to a writer, as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.

I started m-p-h-ing it homewards in a thrice

A pictorial record of his hopes and despairs would have looked like a fever chart.

If you come to think of it, what a queer thing Life is! So unlike anything else, don't you know, if you see what I mean. At any moment you may be strolling peacefully along, and all the time Life's waiting around the corner to fetch you one.

I HEADED FOR the cottage, where I had left the car. By the time I got there I should have done three miles of foot-slogging and I proposed to give the leg muscles a bit of time off, and if E. Jimpson Murgatroyd didn't like it, let him eat cake.

As two-seaters go, I had always found mine fairly comfortable, but then I had never before tried to get the eight hours in it, and you would be surprised at the number of knobs and protuberances which seem suddenly to sprout out of a car's upholstery when you seek to convert it into a bed.

I am going to start at the bottom and work my way still further down.

Life, said Wesson, who had had time for reflection, is a house which we all burgle. We enter it uninvited, take all that we can lay hands on, and go out again.

It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.

I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.

While I'm writing, I'm far away; and when I come back, I've gone.

And that's why i have to go back to so many places there to find myself and constantly examine myself with no witness but the moon and then whistle with joy, ambling over rocks and clods of earth, with no task but to live, with no family but the road.

Algún día en cualquier parte, en cualquier lugar indefectiblemente te encontrarás a ti mismo, y ésa, sólo ésa, puede ser la más feliz o la más amarga de tus horas.

With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

You make me thank god for every mistake I ever made, Because each one led me down the path that brought me to you.

I need the sea because it teaches me

If you should ask me where I've been all this time I have to say Things happen. I have to dwell on stones darkening the earth, on the river ruined in its own duration: I know nothing save things the birds have lost, the sea I left behind, or my sister crying. Why this abundance of places? Why does day lock with day? Why the dark night swilling round in our mouths? And why the dead?