Quotes About Wanderer

Not all those who wonder are lost.

The moment of separation is a temporary period, a brief journey of the soul. It begins, it ends. The wanderer returns to land and race.…

I am a drifter, and as lonely as that can be, it is also remarkably freeing. I will never define myself in terms of anyone else.

I don't really live anywhere.

What happens to a wanderer?" Moses asked Neph. "Does he ever come home?" And Neph answered ruefully that wanderers were those who sought their home – not those who left it. The cryptic intent was not lost on Moses, and when Neph asked him how he felt, he replied, "I am a stranger here.

Some people say I'm a no count, others say I'm no good But I'm just a natural born travelin' man Doin' what I think I should, oh yeah Doin' what I think I should.

The wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams, the eternal asker of answers, stands in the street, and lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.

Muchos poetas han escrito que pasamos por el mundo como peregrinos, que la vida no es más que un viaje. Una viajera anónima del siglo XVI escribía en sus notas "No me siento viajera, más bien peregrina en este mundo, quizá porque me gusta ir de aquí para allá ganándole tiempo a la muerte".

Be in this world as if you are a traveller, a passer-by, with your clothes and shoes full of dust. Sometimes you sit under the shade of a tree, sometimes you walk in the desert. Be always a passer-by, for this is not home. – Hadith of the Prophet

I think that travel comes from some deep urge to see the world, like the urge that brings up a worm in an Irish bog to see the moon when it is full.

Beware O wanderer, the road is walking too.

Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea.

He who has no house of his own is everywhere at home.

Fellow-wanderer, Could we but mix ourselves into a dream, Not in its image on the mirror!

Anyone who needs more than one suitcase," he said as he double-locked their door, "is a tourist, not a traveler.

My dad is a pilot so I think I was born with the travel bug.

But the vagrant owns the whole vast earth that ends only at the nonexistent horizon, and his empire is an intangible one, for his domination and enjoyment of it are things of the spirit.

Not all those who wander are lost.

I made a fine tramp and a fair drover;

His spirit chaunged house and wente ther, As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher.

because he had no place he could stay in without getting tired of it and because there was nowhere to go but everywhere, keep rolling under the stars...

The man of many shifts, who wandered far and wide, And towns of many saw, and learned their mind; And suffered much in heart by land and sea, Passing through wars of men and grievous waves.

My father died shortly after I was twenty-one; and being left well off, and having a taste for travel and adventure, I resigned, for a time, all pursuit of the almighty dollar, and became a desultory wanderer over the face of the earth.

He was a wanderer by nature, and even if England and the nearer East were closed to him, the world was wide, the sun shone in many places, the stars wheeled over one, books could be read, women had beauty, flowers scent, tobacco its flavour, music its moving power, coffee its fragrance, horses and dogs and birds were the same seductive creatures