It is good to have an end to journey toward, but it is the journey that matters in the end.
Son. Everyone dies alone. That's what it is. It's a door. It's one person wide. When you go through it, you do it alone. But it doesn't mean you've got to be alone before you go through the door. And believe me, you aren't alone on the other side.
If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it's not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That's why it's your path.
The story of my recent life.' I like that phrase. It makes more sense than 'the story of my life', because we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality- and in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.
Life is a daring adventure or nothing.
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
Our life is an endless journey; it is like a broad highway that extends infinitely into the distance. The practice of meditation provides a vehicle to travel on that road. Our journey consists of constant ups and downs.
Nobody can build the bridge for you to walk across the river of life, no one but you yourself alone. There are, to be sure, countless paths and bridges and demi-gods which would carry you across this river; but only at the cost of yourself; you would pawn yourself and lose. There is in the world only one way, on which nobody can go, except you: where does it lead? Do not ask, go along with it.
The cliche is that life is a mountain. You go up, reach the top and then go down.
There is a road, no simple highway, between the dawn and the dark of night, and if you go, no one may follow, that path is for your steps alone.
Oh the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!
As the old saw says well: every end does not appear together with its beginning.
Every day you live is a page. Every year, a chapter. Your life, a book. What is it about?
Nothing shows you the straight line from here to death like a list.
Love the questions themselves...Live the questions now and have confidence that someday far into the future, [I will live my] way into the answer.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
What are we after all our dreams, after all our memories?
However God had it planned, I'm rockin' with how he do it. He took the steering wheel and I'm letting him drive.
A journey never ends. Only the travellers end.
In my life, things have happened to me. I've never felt I was controlling anything.
Life passes into pages if it passes into anything.
How many roads must a man walk down, Before you call him a man? How many seas must a white dove sail, Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, and how many times must the cannon balls fly, Before they're forever banned?
How you climb a mountain is more important than reaching the top
Out of love and hatred, out of earnings and borrowings and leadings and losses; out of sickness and pain; out of wooing and worshipping; out of traveling and voting and watching and caring; out of disgrace and contempt, comes our tuition in the serene and beautiful laws.
Both marriage and death ought to be welcome: the one promises happiness, doubtless the other assures it.
