Quotes About Wandering

Shining by night with borrowed light, wandering round the earth.

And thus Charles found himself wandering around a hotel, trailing federal agents as he held a cardboard coffee cup holder in each hand, instead of out killing misbehaving werewolves.

The cat has always been associated with the moon. Like the moon it comes to life at night, escaping from humanity and wandering over housetops with its eyes beaming out through the darkness.

Twenty minutes into our walk away from the wall put us deep in a forest of fir, pine, cottonwood, and aspen trees. The lush forest floor was alive and danced with shadows cast from an endless parade of swaying trees. As we approached early evening it was cool and peaceful. The sound of the trees moving in the wind high above seemed like a friendly traveling companion, calling us farther and farther into the depths of the forest.

Chàng trai ?y l?n lên gi?a ?ám ph? n?. T? ?ó hình thành thói c?m ghét ph? n? ti?m ?n và chi?u h??ng tình d?c không xác ??nh, gi?c m? ???c ngao du n?m châu b?n b?.

Depuis, le Paris où j'ai tenté de retrouver sa trace est demeuré aussi désert et silencieux que ce jour-là. Je marche à travers les rues vides. Pour moi, elles le restent, même le soir, à l'heure des embouteillages, quand les gens se pressent vers les bouches de métro. Je ne peux pas m'empêcher de penser à elle et de sentir un écho de sa présence dans certains quartiers.

Bien des années plus tard, un après-midi que je marchais dans les parages du Val-de-Grâce, j'ai essayé de retrouver ce hôtel. Je n'avais noté ni le nom ni l'adresse sur le carnet noir, comme on évite d'écrire les détails trop intimes de notre vie, de crainte qu'une fois fixés sur le papier ils ne nous appartiennent plus.

He was haunted by what he called "fixed points." In this uninterrupted stream of women, men, children, and dogs that pass by and end up lost from sight among the streets, it would be nice to hold on to a face once in a while.

Ces après-midi d'été où vous ne savez plus très bien en quelle année vous êtes.

He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

He would even sing from time to time. He had a bright, reckless tenor that was always wandering off, looking for notes in the wrong places.

Took an arrow in the knee on my way through the Eld three summers ago. It gives out every now and then." He grimaced and said wistfully, "It's what made me give up the good life on the road." He reached down to touch his oddly bent leg tenderly.

Se fue volviendo cada vez más introvertido. Le gustaba vagar solo y sin rumbo...

If I got lost along the way I had a compass that I had found embedded in a pile of wet leaves I was kicking my way through. The compass was old and rusted but it still worked, connecting the earth and stars. It told me where I was standing and which way was west but not where I was going and nothing of my worth.

I suspected my soul, being mischievous, might slip away while I was dreaming and fail to return.

There were no ashtrays and no sign of my philosophic cowpoke. I sensed he had been heading this way and most likely, spotting the spanking new paint job, just kept on going. I looked around. Nothing to hold me here, either, not even the dried carcass of a dead bee.

On his best walks, he was able to feel that he was nowhere. And this, finally, was all he ever asked of things: to be nowhere. New York was the nowhere he had built around himself, and he realized that he has no intention of ever leaving it again.

By wandering aimlessly, all places became equal, and it no longer mattered where he was.

but such is the price you pay for leaving home, and as long as you continue to travel, the nowhere that lies between the here of home and the there of somewhere else will continue to be one of the places where you live.

New York was an inexhaustible space, a labyrinth of endless steps, and no matter how far he walked, no matter how well he came to know its neighborhoods and streets, it always left him with the feeling of being lost.

On his best walks, he was able to feel that he was nowhere. And this, finally, was all he ever asked of things: to be nowhere.

New York was an inexhaustible space, a labyrinth of endless steps, and no matter how far he walked, no matter how well he came to know its neighbourhoods and streets, it always left him with the feeling of being lost. Lost,

wandering is intimacy's helpmate.

BEFORE YOUR LATE FACE, a loner wandering between nights that change me too, something came to stand, which was with us once already, un- touched by thoughts.