Quotes About Journey

See the interlaced strands?' She touched the raised pattern with a knobby finger. 'These trace a never-ending path, leading away from home and circling back. When you wear this, you'll never be far from the place you started.

And eventually-though neither of us knew it yet-we'd end up here, in this place, within and without the world of the painting.

Whether your journey is long or short, He will help you as long as you place your trust in Him.

And this is where we belong." "No, it isn't. It's just where we ended up.

How strange, I think—that I am in a place my parents have never been and will never see. How strange that I am here and they are gone.

I am halfway between two worlds, the known and the unknown. I feel as transparent as the wind, as if my spirit is hovering in the sky, waiting to land. I am driving toward a future I can't see, leaving behind a past that already feels distant. Nothing is clear - and yet the trees are sharp against the sky; I can see the hard outlines of everything.

I can't imagine why you didn't memorize this route on the

Christina Baker Kline

Turtles carry their homes on their backs." Running her finger over the tattoo, she tells him what her dad told her: "They're exposed and hidden at the same time. They're a symbol of strength and perseverance." "That's very deep.

and the National Orphan Train Complex in Concordia, Kansas,

Orphan Train Rider: One Boy's True Story by Andrea Warren; Children of the Orphan Trains, 1854–1929 by Holly Littlefield; and Rachel Calof's Story: Jewish Homesteader on the Northern Plains edited by J. Sanford Rikoon (which

She didn't have a compass, a map, or even a decent sense of direction. She wasn't certain she would recognize herself.

Turtles carry their homes on their backs They're exposed and hidden at the same time. They're a symbol of strength and perseverance

Maybe all of us could live several lives, giving some things up and gaining others, assembling different versions of contentment.

Maybe it doesn't matter how much gets done. Maybe the value is in the process—in

only link we had to our future was a name scrawled on a piece of paper my father tucked in his shirt pocket as we boarded the ship: a man who had emigrated ten years earlier and now, according to his Kinvara relatives, owned a respectable dining establishment in New York City.

It was worse for Mam, who discovered on the boat she was again with child and could hardly keep any food down. But even with all of this, as I stood on the lower deck outside our dark, cramped rooms in steerage, watching the oily water churn beneath the Agnes Pauline, I felt my spirits lift. Surely, I thought, we would find a place for ourselves in America.

The landlord called our new home a railroad apartment: each room leading to the next, like railway cars.

When one is ready, when we choose, the understanding will be a part of life. Then we are guided very differently.

Fate Marches on, demanding we find our destinies

My advice to someone to follow in my footsteps is to have patience. I've been doing this for twelve years.

I love the solitude of being on a plane and finally getting to read an entire book and being left alone.

Does the road wind up-hill all the way? Yes, to the very end.

The road to death is life, the gate of life is death,