I dread the beginning of her new life more than words can tell, but I see some hope for her if she travels - none if she remains at home.

It's not a homeless life for me,
It's just that I'm home less
Than others like to be.

Through all the ways of our unintelligible world, the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together.

Our words are giants when they do us an injury, and dwarfs when they do us a service.

Define your path and travel on this path.

what he sought was always something lying ahead, and even if it was a matter of the past it was a past that changed gradually as he advanced on his journey, because the traveller's past changes according to the route he has followed: not the immediate past, that is, to which each day that goes by adds a day, but the more remote past. Arriving at each new city, the traveller finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.