Quotes About Journey

We don't take a trip. A trip takes us.

At the roadsides I never had a really good dinner or a really bad breakfast.

The reverse is also true: many a trip continues long after movement in time and space has ceased. I remember a man in Salinas who in his middle years traveled to Honolulu and back, and that journey continued for the rest of his life. We could watch him in his rocking chair on his front porch, his eyes squinted, half-closed, traveling to Honolulu.

I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found, nor much identification from shapes which symbolize continents and states.

Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased. I remember a man in Salinas who in his middle years traveled to Honolulu and back, and that journey continued for the rest of his life. We could watch him in his rocking chair on his front porch, his eyes squinted, half-closed, endlessly traveling to Honolulu.

Within that frame he went a long way and burned a deep scar.

A day, a livelong day, is not one thing but many.

But to find where you are going, you must know where you are, and I didn't.

Puts a weight on ya. Goin' out lookin' for somepin you know you ain't gonna find.

Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased

In Spanish there is a word for which I can't find a counter word in English. It is the verb vascular, present participle vacilando. I does not mean vacillating at all. If one is vacilando, he is going somewhere but doesn't greatly care whether or not her gets there, although he has direction. . . We could choose some article almost certain not to exist there and then diligently try to find it.

And her eyes were on the highway, where life whizzed by.

At last he said, Did you come out of the big mountains? Gitano shook his head slowly. No, I walked down the Salinas Valley. The afternoon thought would not let Joey go. Did you ever go into the big mountains back there? The old dark eyes grew fixed, and their light turned inward on the years that were living in Gitano's head.

There was no desire in him for a state or condition, no picture in his mind of the thing to be when he had followed his longing; but only a burning and a will overpowering to journey outward and outward after the earliest risen star.

Ad astra per alia porci

I saw in their eyes something I was to see over and over in every part of the nation—a burning desire to go, to move, to get under way, anyplace, away from any Here. They spoke quietly of how they wanted to go someday, to move about, free and unanchored, not toward something but away from something.

I tell those stories, but they're not what I want to tell. I only know how I want people to feel when I tell them. It wasn't Indians that were important, nor adventures, nor even getting out here. It was a whole bunch of people made into one big crawling beast. And I was the head. It was westering and westering. Every man wanted something for himself, but the big beast that was all of them wanted only westering.

I guess this personal hide-and-seek is not unusual. And some people are 'it' all their lives - hopelessly 'it.

The dark swallowed him, but his dragging footsteps could be heard a long time after he had gone, footsteps along the road; and a car came by on the highway, and its lights showed the ragged man shuffling along the road, his head hanging down and his hands in the black coat pockets.

I think of my life as a kind of music, not always good music but still having form and melody

Can a man think out his life, or must he just tag along?

Your days are like pages, the chapters unread. You have to keep turning your book has no end.

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.

I seen turtles all my life. They're always goin' someplace. They always seem to want to get there.