Quotes About Journey

The first time I passed as a woman in public was on leave in the U.S. from my deployment to Iraq in February 2010.

I don't remember the last time I drove. I'd rather be a passenger unless I'm somewhere beautiful.

Sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm in control but that I'm going along for the ride. And I'm a lousy passenger; I love to drive.

In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.

When times are difficult, I tell myself, 'I'm just passing through.'

I like the condition of being an outsider, just passing through.

I've always believed there is a better place somewhere. I feel like I'm E.T. and I'm just passing through.

For the Sufi Traveler, every journey is the haji, every tajalli is the Kaaba. Every path, if it be properly understood, is the Path; every way, however fraught with difficulty, can be experienced as a "straight" path to realization.

Company. Copyright 1951 by Robert Frost. Reprinted by arrangement with Henry Holt and Company, LLC. Peter Marren has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this

And as the wary dogs skirt past, we nod, grimace, and resume our paths to separate destinies and graves.

Peter Meredith

Phips his Wreck-Voyage.

It was the first rough travelling I'd done on my African adventure and it felt good. South Africa had been too easy. I simply turned up at a minivan station and there was a death trrap waiting for me. Now I was on a painfully slow truck that shuddered and groaned in a manner that suggested it wasn't long for this world.

What we find changes who we become.

The journey transforms the destination.

came to the Bar Formentor

With the last sentence Blyth stumbles across the credo of all adventurers, be they sailors, mountaineers, or explorers. The where and how is simply the means to burrow as deeply as posssible into oneself. It's the answer to the relentless question that floods the mind when the exercise becomes painful and severe: What am I doing here? What's the point?

My life is littered with copies of Moby Dick.

There is something sweetly inexplicable that passes between two people who are destined to meet when one day, after wandering often aimlessly through life, searching without ever knowing for exactly what, the heavens finally fall into alignment and they happen upon one another unexpectedly, as if by magic.

Most falls aren't free -- there is always the tension, it seems to me, between what you are falling from and what you are falling to.

Still, wouldn't you, even if entirely secure in your own sense of direction, be at least curious where others were heading, even as you struck out on your own ?

Even when we strive for perfection, life is nothing more than an attempt to achieve it through a series of greater or smaller imperfections.

I have just finished "All the Colors of Darkness" 090209

Peter Robinson