Quotes About Journey

She was baptised to Christ-their name for the pattern, her path, her wyrd. She was still herself.

These are tales of the world," she told her. "All the adventure, all the different and new you need.

The lake was her destiny; her path to it lay through this knight.

When a time came to carve her name, would it be Dawnged, girl of Ystrad, T´ywi or Tâl, payment to Elen, or would she one day find her true name?

She left her hood down, letting the rain cling to her hair, wanting to hear while her body walked and her mind wandered.

She touched the pool and fell the echo of that faraway lake, the promise of all that was wide and bright and clear that she would one one day find.

Wyrd never flowed along expected paths.

She fell into a waking dream and on clear nights walked for miles on the world and in the woods.

By the time they saw the outer walls of Caer Leon, her legs were steadier though inside she felt a shiver like an ash key twirling too fast in the wind.

Stay in the world, she had said, and this was the world I had made.

It occurred to Hild that both Hereswith and Cian now had their own paths. She had only her mother's dream.

Hild held Begu's hand, because Begu hadn't been walking this path for years and at night the world was different. Smells, sounds, shapes loomed from the shadow and were gone, moonlight turnd the shadows sharp and sleep. It was a bleached world of bone and stone and tin where magic walked.

She had no idea what path her mother's thoughts might be taking.

While she watched, she let her own feet find their way; she knew every root, every rut and hare scrape, every fallen bough in this glade.

They were good travelling companions. Llanza had lived half his life in the saddle and Nimuë had journeyed far and often. Both were easy with each other, and after a while Peretur found her rhythm with them.

She withdrew to the shadows and began the long walk back under a twist of stars.

After some months on the road she was taller still, her muscles hard but her smile more ready.

Las verdades no están en la circunferencia de un círculo cuyo centro es el hombre. Las verdades se levantan en parajes fragosos que el hombre recorre siguiendo los meandros de una senda sinuosa que las revela, las oculta, finalmente las ostenta o las esconde.

Ich wandle in der Finsternis. Doch mich leitet der Duft des Ginsters.

It is indecent, and even obscene, to speak to man of "progress," when every path winds its way up between funerary cypresses.

Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.

Traveling outgrows its motives. It soon proves sufficient in itself. You think you are making a trip, but soon it is making you - or unmaking you.

After all, one travels in order for things to happen and change; otherwise you might as well stay at home.

Comme une eau, le monde vous traverse et pour un temps vous prête ses couleurs. Puis se retire, et vous replace devant ce vide qu'on porte en soi, devant cette espèces d'insuffisance centrale de l'âme qu'il faut bien apprendre à côtoyer, à combattre, et qui, paradoxalement, est peut-être notre moteur le plus sûr.