Quotes About Journey

I like to watch people. Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them and listen to them. I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they're going.

We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.

Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before death is what counts.

He knew what the wind was doing to them, where it was taking them, to all the secret places that were never so secret again in life.

passing swiftly on toward further darknesses, but moving also toward a new sun.

First, find out what your hero wants, then just follow him.

She didn't watch the dead, ancient bone-chess cities slide under, or the old canals filled with emptiness and dreams. Past dry rivers and dry lakes they flew, like a shadow of the moon, like a torch burning.

A train has a poor memory; it soon puts all behind it.

I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.

A story should be like a river, flowing and never stopping, your readers passengers on a boat, whirling downstream through constantly refreshing and changing scemery.

But most of all, I like to watch people. Sometimes I ride the subway all day and look at them and listen to them. I just want to figure out who they are and what they want and where they are going.

She went away, and the fireflies, on their electric circuits, fluttered after her like an errant constellation, showing her how to walk in darkness. I heard her say, faintly, We've got to try, anyway.

The courthouse clock struck nine and it was getting late and it was really night on this small street in a small town in a big state on a large continent on a planet earth hurtling down the pit of space toward nowhere or somewhere and Tom feeling every mile of the long drop.

You stumble into it, mostly. You don't know what you're doing, and suddenly, it's done. You don't set out to reform a certain kind of writing. It evolves out of your own life and night scares.

Meet him in the air?" Tom snorted, "good grief, talk about horrible directions to nowhere.

Why live? Life was its own answer.

We'll just start walking today and see the world and the way the world walks around and talks, the way it really looks...And while none of it will be me when it goes in, after a while it'll all gather together inside and it'll be me.

This will be the one trip of your life. Keep your eyes wide.

I am a passionate, not an intellectual writer, which means my characters must plunge ahead of me to live the story

Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.

Way late at night Will had heard—how often?—train whistles jetting steam along the rim of sleep, forlorn, alone and far, no matter how near they came. Sometimes he woke to find tears on his cheek, asked why, lay back, listened and thought, Yes! they make me cry, going east, going west, the trains of far gone in country deeps they drown in tides of sleep that escape the towns.

I discovered me in the library. I went to find me in the library.

If anything is taught here, it is simply the charting of the life of someone who started out to somewhere—and went.

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