Quotes About Journey

T]he route of a pilgrimage should serve its spiritual goal. Which may be simple or manifold, but which will partake of at least one of five aims: service, supplication, gratitude, divination, and atonement.

We can stop at the Vilnoc temple and pray for him, if you like." Lencia looked down at her sandals, up at Penric.  "Does it help?" "For a certainty… only at the very end of all journeys

I have to find a boat. Somehow.

May I come in? His smile softened. The choice is yours, my Ista. As you do not deny Me, I will not deny you. Yet I would still await you, if you chose the long way home. I might become lost upon the road. She looked away.

Most days it's just stumbling around in the dark with the rest of creation, smashing into things and wondering why it hurts.

Don't worry whether or not I am now happy. Today is only chapter one, we have yet to write a book.

Our ingress into the world was naked and bare; our progress through the world is trouble and care; our egress from the world will be nobody knows where; but if we do well here we shall do well there.

And the night deepened over the River Yann, a night all white with stars. And with the night there rose the helmsman's song.

Hurriedly then he donned his magical sword in its wide scabbard of leather; and with scanty provisions hastened over the fields, after the last of the leaves, whose autumnal glory led him, as many a cause in its latter days, all splendid and fallen, leads all manner of men.

The journey is difficult, immense. We will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in one lifetime see all that we would like to see or to learn all that we hunger to know.

We have joined the caravan, you might say, at a certain point; we will travel as far as we can, but we cannot in a lifetime see all that we would like to see or learn all that we hunger to know.

Every man contains within himself a ghost continent.

In the days of the frost seek an minor sun.

Just remember, being young is nice, but being old is comfortable.

Distraction Slow Ride

That's the beauty of a book—through its characters, you can imagine your life outside your life.

When you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.

You can exclude the excluded middle, but when you ride through, on your way to a lonely and more certain place, out the window you'll see everyone you've ever known living there.

In general, people were not road maps. People were not hieroglyphs or books. They were not stories. A person was a collection of accidents. A person was an infinite pile of rocks with things growing underneath.

You can wake from one dream only to find yourself plunged into yet another, like some endless rosary of the mind. When that happens, it is hard to glimpse what is not dream; the waking, undreamed world flies by you, in rushing flashes of light and air, in loud, quick, dangerous spaces like those between the cars of a train. There is nothing you can do. You walk in the sleep of yourself and wait. You wait for the train to pass.

Let's make our own way,' says the Mother, 'and not in this boat.

We all go Do, Re, Mi, but you've gotta find all the other notes yourself.

Here was the thing about traveling down an uncharted river: You could only say how long you'd been traveling; you could never say how long it would be.

Like the shaman, a teacher has to have a clear vision so that a student can come to believe that he or she sees something real that can be shared. The teacher's message must be "I know something you don't know, something you don't have, but I am committed to sharing it with you and bringing you on this journey.