Quotes About Journey

Pretendem os poetas que tornamos a encontrar por um momento o que fomos outrora, quando entramos em certa casa, em certo jardim em que vivemos na juventude. São peregrinações muito arriscadas, essas, ao fim das quais se colhem tantas decepções como êxitos. Os lugares fixos, coevos de anos diferentes, é em nós mesmos que é melhor encontrá-los.

My life had been like a painter who climbs up a road overhanging a lake that is hidden from view by a screen of rocks and trees. Through a gap he glimpses it, he has it all there in front of him, he takes up his brushes.

We do not receive wisdom, we must discover it for ourselves, after a journey through the wilderness, which no one else can make for us, which no one can spare us, for our wisdom is the point of view from which we come at last to regard the world.

The images selected by memory are as arbitrary, as narrow, as elusive as those which the imagination had formed and reality has destroyed. There is no reason why, existing outside ourselves, a real place should conform to the pictures in our memory rather than those in our dreams. And besides, a fresh reality will perhaps make us forget, detest even, the desires on account of which we set out on our journey.

If, as would sometimes happen, she had the appearance of some woman whom I had known in waking hours, I would abandon myself altogether to the sole quest of her, like people who set out on a journey to see with their own eyes some city that they have always longed to visit, and imagine that they can taste in reality what has charmed their fancy.

The interval of space separating her from him was one which he must as inevitably traverse as he must descend, by an irresistible gravitation, the steep slope of life itself.

We dream much of Paradise, or rather of a number of successive Paradises, but each of them is, long before we die, a Paradise lost, in which we should feel ourselves lost also.

But first whom shall we send In search of this new world, whom shall we find Sufficient? Who shall tempt, with wand'ring feet The dark unbottomed infinite abyss And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight Upborne with indefatigable wings Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive The happy isle?

Go; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more.

From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith like a falling star.

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand with wand'ring steps and slow, through Eden took their solitary way.

Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.

Come let us haste, the stars grow high, But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide; They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam, the pilot of some small night-founded skiff, deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, with fixed anchor in his scaly rind, moors by his side under the lee, while night invests the sea, and wished morn delays.

The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and providence their guide; They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

I'm breathing with a light and free feeling. It's a feeling of release and independence as I begin my European journey. Backpacking somehow sets me apart from everyone. Even in this airport. True, people here are traveling, but they each have things to do, deadlines to meet, itineraries to follow, specific things to see. Not me, I'm different. I have everywhere to go and anything to see. My destination is culture and knowledge and experience. in 'Waking up to Winter

We all travel the Milky Way together, trees and men.

Anyhow we never know where we must go, nor what guides we are to get---people,storms, guardian angels, or sheep....

All the world was before me and every day was a holiday, so it did not seem important to which one of the world's wildernesses I first should wander.

I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do. They go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!

It was the afternoon of the day and the afternoon of his life, and his course was now westward down all the mountains into the sunset. [speaking about Ralph Waldo Emerson]

I tied a crust of bread to my belt, and with Carlo set out for the upper slopes of the Pilot Peak Ridge, and had a good day, notwithstanding the care of seeking the silly runaways.