Quotes About Journey

I regarded home as a place I left behind in order to come back to it afterward.

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.

The road of the pass was hard and smooth and not yet dusty in the early morning.

The old man knew he was going far out and he left the smell of the land behind and rowed out into the clean early morning smell of the ocean.

You find everything on earth at Harry's. Yes, my Colonel. Except, possibly, happiness. I'll damn well find happiness, too, the Colonel assured him. Happiness, as you know, is a movable feast.

Certi altri posti non erano così buoni, ma forse eravamo noi a non essere così buoni quando eravamo là.

THE MARVELLOUS THING IS THAT IT'S painless," he said. "That's how you know when it starts.

I walked down past the Lycée Henri Quatre and the ancient church of St.-Étienne-du-Mont and the windswept Place du Panthéon and cut in for shelter to the right and finally came out on the lee side of the Boulevard St.-Michel and worked on down it past the Cluny and the Boulevard St.-Germain until I came to a good café that I knew on the Place St.-Michel.

We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master

Holdat-napot, mely odafenn világol. Akármennyit járhatom a világot, Soha el nem fogyasztom e világot.

I knew there were many side-roads but did not want one that would lead to nothing.

You're with a lucky boat. Stay with them.

After the train started he had stood on the rear platform and watched the station and the water tower grow smaller and smaller and the rails crossed by the ties narrowed toward a point where the station and the water tower stood now minute and tiny in the steady clicking that was taking him away.

Think about something cheerful, old man, he said. Every minute now you are closer to home.

But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.

You go along your whole life and they seem as though they mean something and they always end up not meaning anything.

Don't think, old man,' he said aloud. 'Sail on this course and take it when it comes'. But I must think, he thought. Because it is all I have left.

Here he was, settled on the island, when he could as well be in Africa. Hell, he thought, I can always go there. You have to make it inside of yourself wherever you are. You are doing all right at that here.

He must find things he cannot lose

Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the dust of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and the hills beyond.

Cruise around by yourself and see what happens to you.

A man is never lost at sea and it is a long island." It

It was hard work walking uphill. His muscles ached and the day was hot but Nick felt happy. He felt he had left everything behind, the need for thinking, the need to write, other needs. It was all back of him.

Up up up and into nowhere