Quotes About Wandering

But by the way, who is the murderer? The one who does not know my relatives, or myself, as I erect my new life like a fragile mausoleum where their shadowy figure is integrated, like a corpse, at the source of my wandering?

One who is happy being a cosmopolitan shelters a shattered origin in the night of his wandering.

Travel is a passion. I intend seeing the world.

How did I find myself here? Me—the man who wanted to walk around the world? On foot, no less. I wanted to be Passepartout, a traveller with little luggage, hopping from one train to another, a Thomas Cook, an Ibn Battuta. Where is Xanadu?

How did I find myself here? Me—the man who wanted to walk around the world? On foot, no less. I wanted to be Passepartout, a traveller with little luggage, a Thomas Cook, an Ibn Battuta. Where is Xanadu?

HOY siento en el corazón Un vago temblor de estrellas Pero mi senda se pierde. En alma de la niebla.

Semper versans, semper in motu. (mereu ratacind, mereu in miscare)

Camminando, ci si ricorda soltanto dei propri sogni.

When walking in this mode we discover the immense vigour of starry night skies, elemental energies, and our appetites follow: they are enormous, and our bodies are satisfied. When you have slammed the world's door, there is nothing left to hold you: pavements no longer guide your steps (the path, a hundred thousand times repeated, of the return to the fold). Crossroads shimmer like hesitant stars, you rediscover the tremulous fear of choosing, a vertiginous freedom.

All the sad young men,Drifting through the town,Drinking up the night,Trying not to drown.

But one never has it easy with that son of mine, one has one devil of a time." Mom was conversing and setting spoons and forks on either side of the Sevres plates "because since he was a youngster he was always, still is, elsewhere, home was hell to him, he just came in to sleep, morning to night he'd be out on Polni Street, the entire town knew him, because he was forever at somebody else's, always wanting to be somewhere other than where he was.

I'm lost, I'll probably always be lost.

I don't feel restless, I just like to travel.

if one went for a walk with no definite purpose in mind, it was correct to believe one's mind incapable of definite purpose.

I'd be smiling and chatting away, and my mind would be floating around somewhere else, like a balloon with a broken string.

Even though I might go out on a date with a boy, emotionally I just wouldn't be able to concentrate. I'd be smiling and chatting away, and my mind would be floating around somewhere else, like a balloon with a broken string. I'd be thinking about one unrelated thing after another. I don't know, I guess finally I want to be alone a little while longer. And I want to let my thoughts wander freely.

There was a time when my soul was wandering through the deepest darkness…

He had no place he had to go to, no place to come back to. He never did, and he didn't now. The only place for him was where he was now.

All I wanted was to put myself to sleep in towns I didn't know.

Mooreland is a long way to go to not to be anywhere when you get there.

I wander around the house and write in bed, at the kitchen table, by the window, in the yard.

Shivam might not be as shy or as moody as me but he has a wanderlust as well. We both yearn to constantly travel.

I often felt like that Mr. Magoo figure in the cartoon, who just wanders through traffic, and somehow it never hits him. I kind of feel that way about my whole childhood: Why do I have a normal life?

I'm a somewhat isolated person in my own way, or I move along a little trail, I go this place, I go that place. It's not like I'm varying my exposure.