Quotes About Wandering

I suppose I've got a restlessness about me which is only alleviated by travel and I like being on the road.

We're like a rogue satellite circling the comedy universe.

Everyone is a Wordsworth in certain moods, and every traveler seeks out places that every traveler has missed.

Don't you know the name of your lonely, Walker?

I guess they needed a maze in Japan, where everything's neat and tidy. In America everybody's already wandering around lost.

People around the world were moving from one place to another. No one was staying.

We are being very nomadic with the truth, yes?

I ran rather than walked, anxious to lose my way. All I wanted was to be unsure.

En busca de la tarde fui apurando en vano las calles. Ya estaban los zaguanes entorpecidos de sombra.

My heart goes out to the playing and singing folk, the folk who are forever on the roads. Life is change; and to be seeing new wonders every day—the thrown sea, the silver rush of the meadow, the lights in distant towns—is to be living, and not merely existing. I pity the man who is content to stay always in the place where his mother dropped him; that is, unless his thoughts wander. For one might sit on a midden and dream stars!

The weeping Pleiads wester, And the moon is under seas; From bourn to bourn of midnight Far sighs the rainy breeze: It sighs from a lost country To a land I have not known; The weeping Pleiads wester, And I lie down alone.

When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust When green buds hang in the elm like dust And sprinkle the lime like rain, Forth I wander, forth I must, And drink of life again. Forth I must by hedgerow bowers To look at the leaves uncurled, And stand in the fields where cuckoo-flowers Are lying about the world.

First don: O cuckoo, shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering voice? Second don: State the alternative preferred, With reasons for your choice.

I allow myself eddies of meaning: yield to a direction of significance running like a stream through the geography of my work: you can find in my sayings swerves of action like the inlet's cutting edge: there are dunes of motion, organizations of grass, white sandy paths or remembrance in the overall wandering of mirroring mind: but Overall is beyond me — A.R. Ammons, from "Corsons Inlet," Collected Poems: 1951-1971 (W. W. Norton & Co., 1972)

I have always had an interest in furniture. At the very least, it weighs us down and keeps us on the ground, and prevents us from clambering up trees and howling naked as the terror of our useless lives overcomes us. It keeps us from wandering aimlessly in pathless wildernesses, plotting cannibalism in forest clearings and dripping caves.

It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming.

The part of me which wanders through my mind and never sees or feels actual objects, but which lives in and moves through my passions and my emotions, experiences this world as a horrible nightmare.

We say that children are bad at paying attention, but we really mean that they're bad at not paying attention - they easily get distracted by anything interesting.

I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore.

Declining from the public ways, walk in unfrequented paths.

I like men and women who don't fit well in the dominant culture, or, as Alvar de Campos calls them, strangers in this place as in every other, accidental in life as in the woul. I like outsiders, phantoms wandering the cobwebbed halls of the doomed castle where life must be lived. David Grossman may love Israel, but he wanders its cobwebbed halls, just as his namesake Vasily wandered Russia's. To write is to know that you are not home.

I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest mad with his own perfume. The night is the night of mid-May, the breeze is the breeze of the south. I lose my way and I wander, I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek. From my heart comes out and dances the image of my own desire. The gleaming vision flits on. I try to clasp it firmly, it eludes me and leads me astray. I seek what I cannot get, I get what I do not seek.

Daydreaming is one of the key sources of poetry - a poem often starts as a daydream that finds its way into language - and walking seems to bring a different sort of alertness, an associative kind of thinking, a drifting state of mind.

Who walks the fastest, but walks astray, is only furthest from his way.