Quotes about wandering

Each malevolence has a cousin that heals it. I fancy Hurtsickle and Heartsease as herbal enemies –weeds growing in reach of one another the bite and the balm in balance.

The WandererWhat is she like?I was told—she is amelancholy soul.She is likethe sun to the nighta momentary gold.A star when dimmedby dawning lightthe flicker ofa candle blown.A lonely kitelost in flight—someone oncehad flown.

All that is gold does not glitter not all those who wander are lost the old that is strong does not wither deep roots are not reached by the frost..

I believe each of us is a pilgrim in our own way; we are all lost souls, trying to find our way home.

Every man, woman, and child on this earth is a wandering pilgrim in his or her own way—each searching for a belonging place. That sense of belonging is found only as we care for one another.

What we seek when we wander usually leads us back home.

It might be well enough to wander if you've a place and people to come back to, but I tell you now there's no desolation like wanting to go home and truly not knowing where it is.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, who ever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life. A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on m

Visions from the gods are gifts alone for those who wander.

From the very beginningperplexing and wanderingfrom one ocean to anotheran everlasting wander

What if it's the thereand not the herethat I long for?The wanderand not the wait,the magicin the lost feetstumbling downthe faraway streetand the way the moonnever hangsquite the same.

There is no sweeter pleasure than wandering aimlessly about.

Now that I am past picking the knife to stab one, the reward of stabbing a few more comes at an unfairly lower risk!

Life is less about finding and more about seeking.

No reprimand in the mirrorSlow walk to LiberiaSlow dance across the SaharaSlow unraveling of gray matter

Roaming is the easiest part, just wandering around, looking the places, imagining how people lived there at that time, breathing deeply the open air around there and feeling the best.

It had the tangled floor plan common to all hospitals, seemingly designed by someone who believed in the healing power of watching confused visitors aimlessly wander around hallways.

I'm a wanderer. But i don't wander to explore the outer physical world , I do it to explore the universe inside me.

THE KEY TO A WONDERFUL LIFEThe key to a wonderful lifeIs to never stop wandering into wonder.Because to live a predictable life,Only fills a person with strife,And such a person will always be wondering:'What a limitless life could be lived beyond the lines?'Such is a question a curious spirit would never sit and ponder.So always pursue new ventures in your life,And be willing to open doors to different light;This is the only way to keep it magical and always filled with wonder.Days will feel sh

Betelgeuse, Achenar. Orion. Aquila. Centre the Cross and you have a steady compass. But there's no compass for my ever disoriented soul, only ever beckoning ghost lights. In the one sure direction, to the one sure end.

She is my morning, she is my evening; we have a love that blooms over and again, more beautifully each time than the last.

Half the world is wandering, the other half is lost.

Being lost without grasping the rather obvious fact that we are lost is by far the best guarantee we have that we’re going to stay lost.

Walking on a path of uncertainties, Shuffling on the probabilities of uncertainties, Waging on the possibilities of uncertainties, Waiting for the occurrences of uncertainties,Solving the mysteries of wandering uncertainties,We move, lead and live.

My ideal journey: set out early and never arrive.

[A]dventures befall the unadventurous as readily, if not as frequently, as the bold. Adventures are a logical and reliable result - and have been since at least the time of Odysseus - of the fatal act of leaving one's home, or trying to return to it again. All adventures happen in that damned and magical space, wherever it may be found or chanced upon, which least resembles one's home. As soon as you have crossed your doorstep or the county line, into that place where the structures, laws, and c

That’s the place to get to—nowhere. One wants to wander away from the world’s somewheres, into our own nowhere.

I wandered everywhere, through cities and countries wide. And everywhere I went, the world was on my side.

Go somewhere you know nothing about and see what happens.

If traveling was free, you'd never see me again.

I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.

Summer is leaving silently. Much like a traveler approaching the end of an amazing journey.

We wandered in a frenzy and a dream (301).

There is a period near the beginning of every man's life when he has little to cling to except his unmanageable dreams, little to support him except good health, and nowhere to go but all over the place by E. B. White

Having your evening coffee overA field guide of trails or alpine blossoms& so I need now to ask youWhich of the old journals did you firstOpen to a map of my long wanderingWhen did you first know I'd come back& how did you find yourself here& how did you know this single lanternYou are reading by was the last possibleLight to lead me home?

He tried not to cry as he wondered if he would ever have a home again.

I never plan for the future but wander into it with a smile on my face, hope in my heart, and the hair up on the nape of my neck.

If you keep wandering in the dark streets, may be it is because you find peace in the darkness rather than in the light!

[Y]ou were too alert to the figurative possibilities of words not to see the phrase [angle of repose] as descriptive of human as well as detrital rest. As you said, it was too good for mere dirt; you tried to apply it to your own wandering and uneasy life ... I wonder if you ever reached it.

It all takes time and lessons and places, but I’m learning to listen to my restless heart, telling me to “go, go, go!

It was meant to be, two trolls living in a tree.

Are you there? If your mind is not there, you are not there! You are wherever your mind is wandering!

We look around us and we find ourselves confused as to why the world has fallen into such deep darkness. And standing in this descending darkness, what we need to realize is that the farther we move from God, the darker everything gets. And no light of man can illuminate that kind of darkness.

The best teachers have showed me that things have to be done bit by bit. Nothing that means anything happens quickly--we only think it does. The motion of drawing back a bow and sending an arrow straight into a target takes only a split second, but it is a skill many years in the making. So it is with a life, anyone's life. I may list things that might be described as my accomplishments in these few pages, but they are only shadows of the larger truth, fragments separated from the whole cycle of

When you give yourself to places, they give you yourself back; the more one comes to know them, the more one seeds them with the invisible crop of memories and associations that will be waiting for when you come back, while new places offer up new thoughts, new possibilities. Exploring the world is one the best ways of exploring the mind, and walking travels both terrains.

I have always longed to be part of the outward life, to be out there at the edge of things, to let the human taint wash away in emptiness and silence as the fox sloughs his smell into the cold unworldliness of water; to return to town a stranger. Wandering flushes a glory that fades with arrival.

With humanity, life has ended up with a living creature that never quite finds itself in the right place, a living creature destined to wander and endlessly make mistakes.

Her mind circled Georgia, circled Ebenezer. It called up images and memories and things nearly home but never that final destination itself, as if it existed at the center of her mind, shining like a sun too radiant. She knew there was a face at the center of that radiance. A face too bright. A face she sought and longed for but could no longer bear the light of. She drifted into sleep, circling, circling, circling.

I was wandering lonely and lost, till the musicyou played pulledmy soul into a vortex of emotions, reminding me thatI was still alive

Where the mountain crosses.On top of the mountain, I do not myself know where.I wandered where my mind and my heart seemed to be lost.I wandered away.

The key to a wonderful life is to never stop wandering into wonder.

Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow. Though I’ve never led an army, I am a wanderer. I cradle 'The Odyssey' nights while the moon is waning, as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

As long as there is greed (desire) for even a single situation, one will have to come back into the world and wandering will continue until then.

Why aren't you in school? I see you every day wandering around.""Oh, they don't miss me," she said. "I'm antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this." She rattled some chestnuts that had fallen off the tree in the front yard. "Or talking about how strange the world is. Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people toge

Could it be that we lost something because had we not lost it, we would have lost ourselves?

I had no goals, no ambitions. That left me free to wander and amuse myself.

They say Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow. Though I have never led an army, I am a wanderer. During the waning moon, I cradle Homer’s 'Odyssey' as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

For how long will you keep on wandering around for infinite lifetimes? Your own light is not there. For how long will you keep on wandering in the dark? One has walked for billions and billions of miles and yet he has not seen the light. He has not found the right path. The truth will have to be known, will it not?

She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in.

She had a wild, wandering soul but when she loved, she loved with chaos and that made all the difference.

i took a night drive.i needed to get away.i needed to knowit's okay to goand have no destination,where time moves slowor doesn't exist.that life can be like this,aimless wandering,just breathing,living,driving forever underneath the stars.

Yes, it was too late, and Sabina knew she would leave Paris, move on, and on again, because were she to die here they would cover her up with a stone, and in the mind of a woman for whom no place is home the thought of an end to all flight is unbearable.

In the boundaryless forests, there’re dancers of nude.Yet in the confines of pasture, there’s promise of food.On which is your side?Ô, but tarry and bide,ere you decide,in both do confide.

(2002) In Rome, month upon month, I struggled with how to structure the book about my father (He already had the water, he just had to discover jars). At one point I laid each chapter out on the terrazzo floor, eighty-three in all, arranged them like the map of an imaginary city. Some of the piles of paper, I imagined, were freestanding buildings, some were clustered into neighborhoods, and some were open space. On the outskirts, of course, were the tenements--abandoned, ramshackled. The spaces