Quotes About Journey

People went through life like well handled jugs, collecting chips and scrapes and stains from wear and tear, from holding and pouring life.

At night, in the garden, it occurs to you that it might have been your heart that left you as you reached the capital. Your heart might not have travelled well, closed up in its cavity, quivering and gnawing at the bars of your ribcage during the commute. It might be tracking north now, along edgelands, past spoil-heaps and stands of pylons, under motorway passes, back to the higher ground. Back to him.

A month in and it seemed to CY that he was an explorer summiting the foothill of an a bizarre and primitive island.

I use poetry to help me work through what I don't understand, but I show up to each new poem with a backpack full of everywhere else that I've been.

Well madam, I will tell you one thing. You must listen. You are back in India for a good shaking. Here you will dance with death and be reborn. You will be a chameleon of karma and there are many guides to show you the way. You will search India's land of gods and find faith

I can look to Hanuman for energy, Varuna (the God of water) if I want rain, Lakshmi (Vishnu's consort, the goddess of wealth) if I need money and Saraswathi (Brahma's consort, the goddess of knowledge) ifI have an exam coming up. Ganesh the elephant god and the child of Shiva and Parvati) can be called on when starting a new journey or venture and Vishnu, Ram or Krishna if I want purity of spirit.

I'd never have guessed which people I'd still know by now.

It takes time to recover from having run somewhere. But sometimes one just wants to run. Anywhere.

Progress takes place in the dark, when you aren't trying.

If you go to Paris, you won't find Paris; you'll find yourself in Paris. Ditto anywhere else. You might as well stay home.

Once you've traveled far enough from where you began, it's impossible to reconcile the present with the past.

I didn't get hugely famous really quick. It was a slow, gradual process, so I was able to sort of grow into myself and figure out who I was and what I wanted without the glaring spotlight on me telling me who I was.

You still haven't said where you come from. Where is your home?" I said, "I am a sheath, so home is wherenever my shade, my blade is.

I cross myself and close my eyes. Where we go next, we go together.

How many miles had they come? Less than halfway, and already Caroline had the sense that a separation such as this could put more than miles between folks, could right this minute be working changes she might not be entirely conscious of and might never realize at all unless she and Eliza saw each other again.

There ain't much to be said about walking across Kekropia aside from the boredom of it.

My brother, Mildmay, my fox, who'd guided and guarded me all the way across Kekropia.

I ride behind the dog out of the city; the city of burning, the city of ghosts. When the gatemouth has shrunk behind us, the dog stops and come back and ties my hands to the saddle. Then we ride again. I don't know how long we ride. Everything hurts, and the city is screaming behind me.

Some things demand that you search for them, even though you will not find them.

Grief is like being strapped to a bad fairground ride you never paid to go on.

You get through a second, and then a minute. And then another minute. You don't think about the length of the journey, you focus on each step. One at a time. And one day you'll pause and realize you're starting to enjoy the view.

The road was new to me, as roads always are, going back.

I couldn't help thinkin' if she was as far out o' town as she was out o' tune, she wouldn't get back in a day.

She runs, trips and pitches down the stairs, holding her letter. She follows the letter down, down... Blackout. A clatter. Strange sounds—xylophones, brass bands, sounds of falling, sounds of vertigo. Sounds of breathing.