Quotes About Wander

Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere. For this is the secret of successful sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all, but the Saunterer, in the good sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea.

Let them wander and scrutinize the outlandish Australians. I have more of God, they more of the road.

What should we think of the shepherd's life if his flocks always wandered to higher pastures than his thoughts?

To wander farther was to wander alone, to rely wholly upon oneself.

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon.

Travelers repose and dream among my leaves.

I haven't travelled much. Even if I have, it's for work or for performance. I haven't explored things.

When you are travelling, there's romance, and there's music.

But the mind travels far - and mysteriously - in sleep.

Your heart will always go where your mind wanders.

Youth is to wander! Adult is to act! Age is to assimilate the beauty of thoughts.

Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.

If you want to know where your heart is, look to where your mind goes when it wanders - #insearchofasoulmate

Where do you go when you're lonely?Where do you go when you're blue?Where do you go when you're lonely?I'll follow youWhen the stars go blue.

Even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven't forgotten. The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.

you can be homeless in your heart, too. You can be empty inside yourself because you have no spiritual center. You can wander through life without any real sense of who you are or where you belong. You can exist without purpose or cause.

a pond that was little more than a depression in the earth through which a small stream meandered like a lost child.

thought they might have wondered off somewhere.

I am a dreamer of words, of written words. I think I am reading; a word stops me. I leave the page. The syllables of the word begin to move around. Stressed accents begin to invert. The word abandons its meaning like an overload which is too heavy and prevents dreaming. Then words take on other meanings as if they had the right to be young. And the words wander away, looking in the nooks and crannies of vocabulary for new company, bad company.

My heart seeks the hearth, My feet seek the road. A soul so divided Is a terrible load. My heart longs to rest, My feet yearn to roam. Shall I wander the world Or stay safe at home?

I do a lot of curiosity buying I buy it if I like the album cover, I buy it if I like the name of the band, anything that sparks my imagination. I still like to go to record stores, I like to just wander around and I'll buy whatever catches my attention.

Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream.

I felt a little guilty about jangling the poor bugger's brains with that evil fantasy. But what the hell? Anybody who wanders around the world saying, Hell yes, I'm from Texas, deserves whatever happens to him.

He had been walking these roads, he thought, all his life.