Quotes about Journey

He'd bivouacked on the north side of the town

The boy stood up and got his broom and put it over his shoulder. He looked at his father. What are our long term goals? he said. What? Our long term goals. Where did you hear that? I dont know. No, where did you? You said it. When? A long time ago. What was the answer? I dont know. Well. I dont either. Come on. It's getting dark.

You will see. It is difficult even for brothers to travel together on such a voyage. The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all.

For we are all the elect, each one of us, and we are embarked upon a journey to something unimaginable. We do not know what will be required of us, and we have nothing to sustain us but the counsel of our fathers.

The straight and the winding way are one and now that you are here what do the years count since last we two met together? Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.

A halfman on a skatecart oared past with leather chocks.

Man has made such a mighty struggle to feel at home on the face of the earth, without even yet succeeding.

Time went on grey, uncloured, like a long journey where she sat unconscious as the landscape unrolled beside her.

But having more freedom she only became more profoundly aware of the big want. She wanted so many things. She wanted to read great, beautiful books, and be rich with them; she wanted to see beautiful things, and have the joy of them for ever; she wanted to know big, free people; and there remained always the want she could put no name to? It was so difficult. There were so many things, so much to meet and surpass. And one never knew where one was going.

Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.

Man is a mistake. He must go.

Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over.