Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits.

Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea.

Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.

There are a lot of doubts over the size and effect of new competitors in the cellular sector.

Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits.

Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.

Man would be otherwise. That is the essence of the specifically human.