Quotes About Journey

Marty: Dad's right about you. You got lost on your journey somewhere. Adam: That's what everyone says who never bothered to go on a journey in the first place.

We run down the right fork, Manchee at our heels, the night and a dusty road stretching out in front of us, an army and a disaster behind us, me and Viola, running side by side.

There's more than this, Sethy," Gudmund said. "This sucks beyond belief, but there's more. We just have to get there.

It may cost you, my Queen. It may cost you dear." "All the best journeys do, faun.

A book, he thinks at one point, rubbing his eyes, tired from so much focused reading. It's a world all on its own, too. He looks at the cover again. A satyr playing pan pipes, far more innocent-looking than when it got up to in the story. A world made of words, Seth thinks, where you live for a while. "And then it's over," he says.

You got lost on your journey somewhere." "That's what everyone says who never bothered to go on a journey in the first place.

But I'm still thinking about being born on a spaceship, an honest to badness spaceship. Growing up while flying along the stars, able to go wherever you wanted, not stuck on some hateful planet which clearly don't want you. You could go anywhere. If one place didn't suit, you'd find another. Full freedom in all direkshuns. Could there possibly be anything cooler in the whole world than that?

THERE IT IS,' my mother says, and what she means is that the dot we've been nearing for weeks, the one that's been growing into a larger dot with two smaller dots circling it, has now become even larger than that, growing from a dot to a disc, shining back the light from its sun, until you can see the blue of its oceans, the green of its forests, the white of its polar caps, a circle of colour against the black beyond.

Life equals running and when we stop running, maybe that's how we'll know life is finally finished.

A world made of words, Seth thinks, where you live for a while.

Roads is never the fastest way to get nowhere," the woman says. "Don't ye know that?

Do you believe there's hope at the end?" I ask. "No," she says simply, looking away. "No, I don't, but I'm still going." She eyes me. "You coming with?

Que importaria la distancia si solo fuera un sueno

A book, it's a world all on its own, too. A world made of words, where you live for a while. And then it's over and then he'll leave that world forever.

I did not know I would struggle Through a ragged underbrush Without an upward path Because there is no path There is only a blunt rock With a river to fall into

I've ridden in a helicopter.

No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet.

I only know one story. But oftentimes small pieces seem to be stories themselves.

If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.

If your name is getting too heavy, you should have Kvothe give you a new one.

Sometimes leaving is the only thing you can do.

I trouped, traveled, loved, lost, trusted and was betrayed.

Ya lo dijo Teccam: no hay hombre valiente que nunca haya caminado cien kilómetros. Si quieres saber quién eres, camina hasta que no haya nadie que sepa tu nombre. Viajar nos pone en nuestro sitio, nos enseña más que ningún maestro, es amargo como una medicina, cruel como un espejo. Un largo tramo de camino te enseñará más sobre ti mismo que cien años de silenciosa introspección." - Kvothe

Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection.