Quotes About Trail

Try the meditation of the trail, just walk along looking at the trail at your feet and don't look about and just fall into a trance as the ground zips by.

For the pride of trace and trail was his, and sick unto death, he could not bear that another dog should do his work.

The first 600 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail, before you get into the Sierra Nevada mountain range, is heavy on desert. One of the things I carry with me in the desert is an umbrella. People think that's insane. It has a shiny top to it, so it looks totally ridiculous, but the difference can be 20 degrees.

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave-Dakota Indian proverb

You're competent enough on the trail." Don't slay me with admiration.

The Snow Leopard's Tale is a mystical pilgrimage into that wild country where animal passion and the human heart begin to walk the very same trail. Whether one has been in the business of adventuring, as Thomas McIntyre has, or has enjoyed such adventures from the safety of one's armchair, The Snow Leopard's Tale is a haunting, beautifully written, and thought-provoking tale, as all great parables are.

Find it on the map, you can always get to it. Try to follow someone's half-assed directions, and once you lose the trail, you're sunk.

Everyone wanted to believe that endless love was possible. She'd believed in it once too, back when she was eighteen. But she knew that love was messy, just like life. It took turns that people couldn't foresee or even understand, leaving a long trail of regret in its wake. And almost always, those regrets led to the kinds of what if questions that could never be answered.

It took turns that people couldn't foresee or even understand, leaving a long trail of regret in its wake. And almost always, those regrets led to the kinds of what if questions that could never be answered.

There was always a trail, skin cells, a scent, thermal imaging, parts left behind that the riders called prints. Sometimes those proved helpful when tracking an individual, especially if they were fresh.

reasons of his own. After Eragon agrees, Brom gives him the sword Zar'roc, which was once a Rider's blade, though he refuses to say how he acquired it. Eragon learns much from Brom during their travels, including how to fight with swords and use magic. Eventually, they lose the Ra'zac's trail and visit the city of Teirm, where Brom believes

Most people find themselves charmed by me eventually. Now come, are you trying to leave a trail behind us on the streets of Paris? Are we Hansel and Gretel?

Well, I guess this is it." "For this little bit time." She looked up. "Hunter, you mustn't--" He leaned toward her and crossed her lips with a finger. "You can read my trail, eh? You can walk in my footsteps and come to me. I will leave you signs.

winter. Chloe throws them bits of trail mix to avoid

...the snail trail of history...

The wonderful patience of the trail... comes to men who toil hard and suffer sore, and remain sweet of speech and kindly.

A Scotch half-breed took charge of him and his mates, and in company with a dozen other dog-teams he started back over the weary trail to Dawson. It was no light running now, nor record time, but heavy toil each day, with a heavy load behind; for this was the mail train

Sitka Charley started. There had been more than one shot, yet there was but one other rifle in the party. He gave a fleeting glance at the men who lay so quietly, smiled viciously at the wisdom of the trail, and hurried on to meet the Men of the Yukon.

Two footsteps do not make a path.

The hunter handles his world with such care that he leaves no trail behind him. to leave a trail would be to become hunted by something more powerful than himself. The art of the hunter lies in his ability to choose both the timing and the location of his appearance. By doing this his interaction with the world becomes calculated and frugal, and thus the hunter avoids depleting both himself and the world around him.

But she knew that love was messy, just like life. It took turns that people couldn't foresee or even understand, leaving a long trail of regret in its wake. And almost always, those regrets led to the kinds of what if questions that could never be answered.

Keep on the path and you will not see the ruined people, so do not stray from the path.

I had reached the end if the trail and the dead end of Willow Glen Road, which meant I had a long way to go, most of it uphill. I heard a bicycle, and because sometimes the world gives you what you want, the bicycle that streaked into view held Amiel.

You could spend hours following the trail of a single dispute, through smoking battlefields of interlinked comments threads and screen shots and blogs where the message "this post has been deleted by its author" stands like a tombstone over the grave of the one witness who can tell you what really happened. I know, because I've wandered extensively over this blasted heath in the past couple of weeks.