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Quotes about Journey

All those people who came into the world with me and have already left it.
— Marcus Aurelius
She talks with wolves, without knowing what sort of beasts they are: Where have you been all my life? they ask. Where have I been all my life? she replies.
— Margaret Atwood
Such regrets are of no practical use. I made choices, and then, having made them, I had fewer choices. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took the one most travelled by. It was littered with corpses, as such roads are. But as you will have noticed, my own corpse is not among them.
— Margaret Atwood
Think of me as a guide. Think of yourself as a wanderer in a dark wood. It's about to get darker.
— Margaret Atwood
You don't understand much, he says. Why do you think I was lost in the impenetrable forest in the first place?
— Margaret Atwood
So much for endings. Beginnings are always more fun. True connoisseurs, however, are known to favor the stretch in between, since it's the hardest to do anything with.
— Margaret Atwood
It is not only the body that travels, Adam One used to say, it is also the Soul. And the end of one journey is the beginning of another.
— Margaret Atwood
it is better to journey than to arrive, as long as we journey in firm faith and for selfless ends.
— Margaret Atwood
there goes this day, down to where all the other days have gone, each one carrying something away with it.
— Margaret Atwood
I've cut myself off. I can feel the place where I used o be attached. It's raw, as when you grate your finger. It's a shredded mess of images. It hurts. But where exactly on me is this torn-off stem? Now here, now there. Meanwhile the other girl, the one with the memory, is coming nearer and nearer. She's catching up to me, trailing behind her, like red smoke, the rope we share.
— Margaret Atwood
It is better to journey than to arrive, as long as we journey in firm faith and for selfless ends.
— Margaret Atwood
A scar is like writing on your body. It tells about something that once happened to you, such as a cut on your skin where blood came out. What
— Margaret Atwood