Journey Travel Alone Quotes

I thought that if I owned nothing, had nothing, was nothing, I would have nothing left to lose, and I wouldn't be scared anymore. Because my whole life I’ve been so damn scared. Scared to live because I was scared to die. But at the same I was so scared of living, so I wanted to die. Or maybe so scared of dying that I refused to live. You don't have to be afraid to fall, when you're already on the ground. You don't have to be scared to lose someone, when there's no one around to lose.

Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually cultivates it, even at the risk of separation or loss. The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can be climbed only alone.

Some journeys in life can only be traveled alone.

Dear Child, Sometimes on your travel through hell, you meet people that think they are in heaven because of their cleverness and ability to get away with things. Travel past them because they don't understand who they have become and never will. These type of people feel justified in revenge and will never learn mercy or forgiveness because they live by comparison. They are the people that don't care about anyone, other than who is making them feel confident. They don’t understand that their deity is not rejoicing with them because of their actions, rather he is trying to free them from their insecurities, by softening their heart. They rather put out your light than find their own. They don't have the ability to see beyond the false sense of happiness they get from destroying others. You know what happiness is and it isn’t this. Don’t see their success as their deliverance. It is a mask of vindication which has no audience, other than their own kind. They have joined countless others that call themselves “survivors”. They believe that they are entitled to win because life didn’t go as planned for them. You are not like them. You were not meant to stay in hell and follow their belief system. You were bound for greatness. You were born to help them by leading. Rise up and be the light home. You were given the gift to see the truth. They will have an army of people that are like them and you are going to feel alone. However, your family in heaven stands beside you now. They are your strength and as countless as the stars. It is time to let go! Love, Your Guardian Angel

The thing about traveling alone, is that you run into your insecurities and fears times ten the normal! You run into all the good things and all the bad things about yourself on a daily basis, and are allowed the opportunity to truly become your own friend. Traveling alone is a learning process; some people travel for leisure, I travel to run into myself!

Karen, her elbows folded on the deck-rail, wanted to share with someone her pleasure in being alone: this is the paradox of any happy solitude.

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded and loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the Readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory. Everything that begins as comedy ends in tragedy.

You will only know the road, until you have travel on it.

Some journeys can only be traveled alone.

It is through the light that we are born and through the night that we travel. The light is the love of our parents who greet us and welcome us into this world and it is with the love of our partner that we leave it. Wulf and Cassandra have chosen to be with each other, to ease their remaining journey and to comfort one another in the coming nights. And when the final night is upon them, they vow to stand together and ease the one who travels first. Soul to soul we have touched. Flesh to flesh we have breathed. And it is alone that we must leave this existence, until the night comes that the Fates decree we are reunited in Katoteros. (Apollite Marriage Vows)

I dare walk alone on my sacred path.

I understand. There is the journey you make through the world—the one that aches and sings. We come together with others to make our way and survive its trials,” she said. “But we are, all of us, also wayfarers on a greater journey, this one without end, each of us searching for the answers to the unspoken questions of our hearts. Take comfort, as I have, in knowing that, while we must travel it alone, this journey rewards goodness, and will prove that the things which are denied to us in life will never create a cage for our souls.” Nicholas

Traveling alone, you get to be whoever you want. I don't mean lie. I mean you get to be a blank slate. You can't leave behind your skin color, or your height, or the handsomeness or homeliness of your face. But you can leave your story behind. If you've broken hearts, the new place doesn't know. If you've lost trust in people and yourself, the new place doesn't know. If everyone thinks you love Jesus, but you never really have figured out what you believe, the new place doesn't care. It may assume you have it all tied nicely in a bow. All your thoughts and histories. Just feeling like your past isn't a vice to hold you in place can be very freeing. Feeling like your family and the expectations and the traditions and the judgments are absent... it can fill your veins with possibility and fire.

May God guide you on the new travel path.

When the wind is right and the cloud is gone, you can see down this road as far as Darjeeling," I told her. "But it is a long and difficult road, full of perils, and if a traveller on foot were to look at the length of it, his spirit would be overcome and he would sit down and refuse to go any further. You must not look to the end of the road, Portia. Look only to the step in front of you. That you can do. Just one step. And you will not make the journey alone.

Naruto… I now remember the words you once said to me. That when you're with me, you finally understand what it's like to have a brother… And when I think of it that way… That feeling… I finally get it now. I've been travelling around the world and I seem to recall these memories a lot. We were alone and starved of love. Kids that lived in a world full of hate. And from that point on, we went our separate ways… and fought. But time has passed and now I'm thinking… Could it be that… just like how the hope and and pain from my father, mother and my brother, Itachi flowed into me… I'd understand your pain and hopes too, Naruto? You never abandoned me, no matter what. And you never gave up on me, coming closer when I pulled away. It wouldn't have surprised me if you hated me, but you didn't… You kept insisting that we were friends. And even that, I nearly destroyed. You fought to stop me… to the point you lost an arm. All because you were my friend. You saved me. The us that quarrelled over the smallest things… are now able to share the pain in each other's hearts. On my journey around the world, I noticed… That all these feelings of mine aren't just about us, I'm sure it's the same for everything else. But… there aren't a lot of people like you. And things won't go as planned, look at us. It's especially true when it comes to bigger things. I think it's the same as praying. And until I can do it, I'll stay strong. The beings that have been entrusted with hope… that's us. That's what makes us shinobi.

When you take the right stairs you will arrive at the precise destination.

I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don't know where it will take me, because I don't know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I'm compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social center, for it's here that I meet others. But I'm neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlors, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I'm sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colors and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing - for myself alone - wispy songs I compose while waiting. Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I'm given and the soul I'm given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don't read it, or are not entertained, that's fine too.

A difficult journey is spiritual rewarding. There is a more dependence on God, His supernatural power, grace and divine favour long the travel.

Becoming free is learning about yourself; the scared and the insecure, the brilliant and the bold. Embrace both and the journey is yours and yours alone. No longer are you following another’s directions and your path and purpose will present themselves. Only then might you find another wandering soul doing the same thing, who can walk with you but on their own journey. All of a sudden you might find a shared passion and a wrinkled map on the trail that makes sense.

I understand. There is the journey you make through the world—the one that aches and stings. We come together with others to make our way and survive its trials," she said. "But we are, all of us, also wayfarers on a greater journey, this one without end, each of us searching for the answers to the unspoken questions of our hearts. Take comfort, as I have, in knowing that, while we must travel it alone, this journey rewards goodness, and will prove that the things which are denied to us in life will never create a cage for our souls.

This is where I find myself now on the journey that God and I have been on, at the station called hope, the one that comes right after gratitude and somewhere not far from journey's end. It has been "God and I" the whole way. Not so much because he has always been pleasant company. Not because I could always feel his presence when I got up in the morning or when I was afraid to sleep at night. It was because he did not trust me to travel alone. Personally I liked the last miles of the journey better than the first. But, since I could not have the ending without first having the beginning, I thank God for getting me going and bringing me home. And sticking with me all the way.

I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don’t know where it will take me, because I don’t know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I’m compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it’s here that I meet others. But I’m neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I’m sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing – for myself alone – wispy songs I compose while waiting. Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I’m given and the soul I was given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don’t read it, or are not entertained, that’s fine too

Nationalism emerged to agitate the world only after the war, and the first visible phenomenon which this intellectual epidemic of our century brought about was xenophobia; morbid dislike of the foreigner, or at least fear of the foreigner. The world was on the defensive against strangers, everywhere they got short shrift. The humiliations which once had been devised with criminals alone in mind now were imposed upon the traveler, before and during every journey. There had to be photographs from right and left, in profile and full face, one’s hair had to be cropped sufficiently to make the ears visible; fingerprints were taken, at first only the thumb but later all ten fingers; furthermore, certificates of health, of vaccination, police certificates of good standing, had to be shown; letters of recommendation were required, invitations to visit a country had to be procured; they asked for the addresses of relatives, for moral and financial guarantees, questionnaires, and forms in triplicate and quadruplicate needed to be filled out,

My journey through the Congo had its ow unique category. It did not quite do it justice to call it adventure travel, and it certainly wasn't pleasure travel. My Congo journey deserved its own category: ordeal travel. At every turn I faced challenges, difficulties and threats when in the Congo. The challenge was to assess and choose the option best suited to making progress. But there were moments when there were no alternatives, or shortcuts or clever ideas. At these times, ordeal travel became really no ordeal at all.

Find the right paths for your journey. Travel along these paths to your final destination.

Traveling the roads alone was a temptation for evil

I like being alone when there's no one around. It's a nice freedom to be the only one there, humming and coping, following my impulse. Being by myself in a public place is different, though, and requires a certain sturdiness. It brings in the element of self-consciousness.

Traveling solo is an incredible – life changing – journey, which I can recommend anyone to undertake. It’s the fear of being alone that prevents many people from daring to take the step to go on that journey. But as with many things, within that fear you’ll discover the greatest triumphs.

She held herself straight, moving slowly, making her way towards the head of the column. And of all the journeys she had undertaken, since the very beginning, this one – from the back of the column to its head – was the longest one she had ever travelled. And, as ever, she travelled it alone.

Great marriages cannot be constructed by individuals who are terrified by their basic aloneness, as so commonly is the case, and seek a merging in marriage. Genuine love not only respects the individuality of the other but actually seeks to cultivate it, even at the risk of separation or loss. The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can be climbed only alone.

...I have often wondered why we do it. Uproot ourselves, I mean. Why we feel the need to travel and wander into strange soil. Why we can't leave things alone. It must be the world calling to us. After all, they say it had been one giant continent once. Maybe this is why we feel drawn to each other, to the lands we cannot see. We think of new places as opportunities to build new lives, but all are we're really doing is trying to find our way back.

A flight attendant is the guide who helps you navigate that passage smoothly. As a death doula, I do the same thing, but the journey is from life to death, and at the end, you don’t disembark with two hundred other travelers. You go alone.

Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy, With purpose to explore or to disturb The secrets of your realm, but by constraint Wand'Ring this darksome desert, as my way Lies through your spacious empire up to light, Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds Confine with Heav'n; or if som other place From your Dominion won, th' Ethereal King Possesses lately, thither to arrive I travel this profound, direct my course; Directed no mean recompence it brings To your behoof, if I that Region lost, All usurpation then expelled, reduce To her original darkness and your sway (Which is my present journey) and once more Erect the Standard there of ancient Night; Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge. 970-987

My life on earth is personal journey.

You'll never know the kind of person you could be until you take that first step, all alone, into the great unknown. Very few take the step.

History is rich knowledge. In your travel, learn brief history of the place visited.

On certain journeys, you must travel alone; waiting for others will only delay your journey.

Define your path and travel on this path.

To travel alone is risky business, especially into a wilderness; equally risky is to have dreams and not follow them.

I travelled with crowds and learned some things; I travelled alone, I learned many things!

Then I instinctively commenced to make excursions beyond the limits of the small world of which I had knowledge, and I saw new scenes. These were at first very blurred and indistinct, and would flit away when I tried to concentrate my attention upon them, but by and by I succeeded in fixing them; they gained in strength and distinctness and finally assumed the concreteness of real things. I soon discovered that my best comfort was attained if I simply went on in my vision farther and farther, getting new impressions all the time, and so I began to travel—of course, in my mind. Every night (and sometimes during the day), when alone, I would start on my journeys—see new places, cities and countries—live there, meet people and make friendships and acquaintances and, however unbelievable, it is a fact that they were just as dear to me as those in actual life and not a bit less intense in their manifestations.

Choose a master, for without him this journey is full of tribulations, fears, and dangers. With no escort, you would be lost on a road you would have already taken. Do not travel alone on the Path.

I have always felt that life is a solitary journey, that we are each on a train, riding through our hours, our days, our years. We get on alone, we leave alone, and the decisions we make as we travel on the train are our responsibility alone. Along the way, different people—the family we are born to and the family we choose, the friends we meet, those we come to love and who come to love us—get on and off the cars of our train. We are travelers, always moving, always in flux, and so are our fellow passengers. Our time riding together is fleeting, but it’s everything—because the time together is what brings us love, joy, connection.

It doesn't seem like you're living a life, it's almost like you're travelling on a train with the destination unknown. You're sitting on a seat near the window looking outside, imagining how things are there outside, how is it like to live in the houses that you pass by. And when you’re busy noticing the outside, you at times do not pay heed to your surroundings inside the coach. And thus some passengers who got down at a station midway fail to capture your interest, or maybe it is because of your deviation of interest towards the outside. While at other stops new people get up, and you like their company, you share and you laugh. But sooner or later they get down. Because it's your journey, you're the traveler and they just accompany you for some distances. And then, maybe when you reach your destination there will still be passengers in the train, passengers you've mingled with or passengers you hate, people who were there since the train had started or people who got in just before the last stoppage, and like it or not, they will get off the train with you, at your destination which also proved to be there destination.

Reading is both a cognitive and an emotional journey. I discovered that it was my job as a teacher to equip the travelers, teach them how to read a map, and show them what to do when they get lost, but ultimately, the journey is theirs alone.

Perhaps it sounds too improbable to be believed; a girl disguised as a boy setting out alone, her only provisions a ragged bag filled with food, her only possession a vial of perfume, and her only protection the kitchen knife in her bag and her wits. And yet the journey involved nothing more complicated than putting one foot in front of the other. In my time as a traveler, I came to perceive that the incredible, the miraculous, the utterly unfathomable often unfold quietly, without commotion, without spectacle. (From The Wayward Moon)

He had the aloofness of manner you often find in those who have lived much alone in unfrequented places...they seem always to hold something back. They have a life in themselves that they keep apart...this hidden life is the only one that signifies to them. And no and then their eyes betray the weariness with the social round into which hazard or the fear of seeming odd has for a moment forced them. They seem then to long for the monotonous solitude of some place of their predilection where they can be once more alone with the reality they have found.

If I don't beat the cancer growing inside of me, I want you to go on. I want you to find another woman to love. You have so much to give, so much love to share that I never want you to be alone again. If I’m not here anymore, I want to know that you’re happy and not alone. Don’t fall into the same despair you did after losing Maggie. Remember that sometimes it’s all just part of the journey we’re meant to travel to be with the one who’s destined to be ours.” The words are hard to say. Facing my mortality and knowing I can pass away makes my chest ache and my heart pound furiously, almost out of control.

Over the last decade my life has been almost exclusively pre-occupied by the desire for adventure, my mind relentlessly buzzing with plans for future journeys. And yet, as soon as my wish to disappear over the horizon into some remote corner of the planet is granted, my mind clings onto all the sentimental details of home and I find that my daydreams of escaping across wide open spaces are replaced not just by precious recollections of moments of affection with a loved one but by fond memories of family gatherings, jokes shared with siblings and time with friends. Expeditions temporarily empty my life of all but the basic concerns of eating, sleeping, travel and staying safe. Like clearing undergrowth from a garden to discover the outline of borders and flowerbeds underneath, reducing life to just the essentials reveals the fundamental structure that underpins the whole. I found that, with life at its most basic and my spirit stretched, what was most dear to me was memories of time spent with those I love. I take this as a clear indication that, above all else, this is what is important in my life. It was a lesson I had been taught before, but a lesson I needed to learn again. It was a lesson I needed to remember.

If you’re on a plane, you’re not where you started, and you’re not where you’re going. You’re caught in between. A flight attendant is the guide who helps you navigate that passage smoothly. As a death doula, I do the same thing, but the journey is from life to death, and at the end, you don’t disembark with two hundred other travelers. You go alone.

He recalled their first conversation in the stables about flying and freedom, and this moment was just that. They were traveling together, journeying to a land that was theirs and theirs alone. A secret world where responsibilities and rules regarding what was proper or not didn’t exist. A place that was made in Cassius’s imagination where he and Merrick could touch, kiss, talk, and laugh with no consequences. A place he wished truly existed but did not. It was a lie. They were not lovers, not in the true sense. He would not be allowed to have Prince Merrick again or to give himself to the prince. But in this moment that truth was not their reality, and Cassius allowed himself to pretend Merrick was courting him. That they were simply two men who desired one another and could have what they wanted

The word for teardrinkers is lachryphagous, and for the eaters of human flesh it is anthropophagous, and the rest of us feed on sorrow all the time. It is the essence of many of the most beautiful ballads and pop songs, and why sorrow and heartbreak are so delicious might have to do with the emotions it stirs in us, the empathy for others' suffering, and the small comfort of not being alone with our own. With a sad song we feel a delicate grief, as though we mourn for three minutes a loss we can't remember but taste again, sorrow like salt tears, and then close it up like a letter in the final notes. Sadness the blue like dusk, the reminder that all things are emphemeral, and that because there is time there is change and that is another name for change, if you look back toward what is vanishing in the distance, is loss. But sadness is also beautiful, maybe because it rings so true and goes so deep, because it is about the distances in our lives, the things we lose, the abyss between what the lover and the beloved want and imagine and understand that may widen to become unbridgeable any moment, the distance between the hope at the onset and the eventual outcome, the journeys we have to travel, including the last one out of being and on past becoming into the unimaginable: the moth flown into the pure dark.

I cried then, the great sobs wracking my whole body. I remembered the last time that I had wept, and how the little boy in my embrace had reached up awkwardly , and yet tenderly to brush away my tears " you did good, Teacher," he had whispered. And now the small boy had passed beyond- so young to journey on alone. But then I remembered that he hadn't traveled alone- not one step of the way, for as soon as the loving hands had released him there, another Hand had reached out to gently take him. I tried to visualize him entering the new Land , the excitement and eagerness shining forth on his face, the cheers rising from the shrill little voice. There would be no pain twisting his face now, no need to hold his head and rock back and forth. Joy and happiness would surround him. I could almost hear his words as he looked at the glories of heaven and gave the Father his jubilant ovation-" You did good, God; You did real good!

Oscar Wilde was born in Dublin, on the 15th October, 1856, so that he is now about twenty-six years of age, but brief as has been his career, it has been full of promise for the future. The son of highly intellectual parents, he has had an exceptional education, has travelled much in wild and remote, through classic lands, and in the course of these journeys has learnt to appreciate the beauties of the old authors, in whose works whilst at college he attained exceptional proficiency. But his naturally enthusiastic temperament teaches him to hope for better in the future than has been achieved in the past, and to see how vast will be the influence of Art and Literature on the coming democracy of Intellect, when education and culture shall have taught men to pride themselves on what they have done, and not alone on the deeds of their ancestors.

For a moment he dreamed of seeing the beauty of the world with her, becoming merged with her as part of that beauty. Then his day-dream disintegrated, wandered, took another path. And he realized that though he did want to go on such a journey, he wanted to go alone. And it was true that , when he remembered all the wonderful places he had seen—every one of which he had visited at least twice, once alone and once with someone he loved—or when he wanted to use them in his books, it was always the time when he had travelled alone that came to his mind most vividly, most magically and most potently. For it is a major law of nature that we are no longer entirely one when we are two. If God said 'It is not good that man should live alone', it was because he was afraid of the solitary man. And so he weakened him by providing him with a mate, in order to have him at his mercy.

The canyons of our minds and hearts are so deep and so full of mystery that we try at all costs to avoid entering them deeply. We avoid journeying inward because we are too frightened: frightened because we must make that journey alone; frightened because we know it will involve solitude and perseverance; and frightened because we are entering the unknown. Aloneness, suffering, perseverance, the unknown: All these frighten us. Our own depths frighten us! And so we stall, distract ourselves, drug the pain, party and travel, stay busy, try this and that, cling to people and moments, junk up the surface of our lives, and find any and every excuse to avoid being alone and having to face ourselves. We are too frightened to travel inward. But we pay a price for that, a high one: superficiality and shallowness. So long as we avoid the painful journey inward, to the depth of our caverns, we live at the surface.

Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finity, -the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heaven's artillery, - but the most tremendous, the most stupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the slightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a maggot's life, nothing more. Strange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of god, of the universe comes over him, - the hope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of the imprisoned essence, - it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God.

Think not lightly, therefore, O Hadrian, of what I am saying. Boast not that you alone have encircled the world in your travels, for it is only the moon and stars that really make the journey around it. Moreover, do not think of yourself as beautiful and great and rich and the ruler of the inhabited world. Know you not that, being a man, you were born to be Life’s plaything, helpless in the hands of fortune and destiny, sometimes exalted, sometimes humbled lower than the grave. Will you not be able to learn what life is, Hadrian, in the light of many examples? Consider how rich with his golden nails was the king of the Lydians. Great as a commander of armies was the king of the Danaans, Agamemnon; daring and hardy was Alexander, king of the Macedonians. Heracles was fearless, the Cyclops wild and untamed, Odysseus shrewd and subtle, and Achilles beautiful to look upon. If fortune took away from these men the distinctions that were peculiarly their own, how much more likely is she to take them away from you?

The Father- blessed be His Name world without end- showed me His Son in the Light that never sets, and thus made me so forcefully perceive my sin - I had disdained God - that for long years I wept, prostrate in despair over my wickedness. I recognised my behaviour in departing from God in all its abomination, and felt bitter shame. I become abhorrent to myself, and my self-contempt found a fellow-traveller - self-hatred. I cannot say that I hated my father or my mother, my family or my friends. It was enough for me to detest myself, I somehow did not even think about anyone else. My longing for God caused me intolerable pain - such pain that I lost all awareness of the material world, as I sojourned alone with Him. I do not know whether the Lord altogether forgave me my sin but I could not forgive myself for what I had done. Through my personal tragedy I lived the tragedy of our forefather Adam - the heritage handed down from generation to generation of the inhabitants of the earth. Through this channel prayer came to me for all the world.

What is the future of men who have lost sight of the past? Earl Hollsopple lived on the edge of civilization in a deserted shack for nearly forty years. His life was one beautiful night of stargazing after another, until a helicopter flies overhead, and exposing his meager world. It is a sign; it is time for him to return to civilization. Unknowingly, Earl’s journey parallels another he had deeply repressed, and that is his return from the Vietnam War. The lone survivor of a plane crash, Earl waits for rescue that never came. He is left to find his way home alone. On both his quests, old Earl and young Earl learn lessons of survival, overcoming isolation and handling conflicts; his travels teach him not just about himself, but humankind. Reaching pivotal points in both journeys, Earl meets fateful loves, leading to destinies that are ultimately intertwined. Everything in life circles until we are able to answer the riddles that plaque man and humanity. Only until we take the journey, solve the problems of our own existence, do we find our way home.

But once we shut ourselves away, we soon discover that we are not as alone as we thought. We are in the company of the words of those who came before us, of other people's stories, other people's books, other people's words, the thing we call tradition. I believe literature to be the most valuable hoard that humanity has gathered in its quest to understand itself. Societies, tribes, and peoples grow more intelligent, richer, and more advanced as they pay attention to the troubled words of their authors, and, as we all know, the burning of books and the denigration of writers are both signals that dark and improvident times are upon us. But literature is never just a national concern. The writer who shuts himself up in a room and first goes on a journey inside himself will, over the years, discover literature's eternal rule: he must have the artistry to tell his own stories as if they were other people's stories, and to tell other people's stories as if they were his own, for this is what literature is. But we must first travel through other people's stories and books.

Who doesn't like to be a center for concern? A kind of second childhood falls on so many men. They trade their violence for the promise of a small increase of life span. In effect, the head of the house becomes the youngest child. And I have searched myself for this possibility with a kind of horror. For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked to hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment. I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage. My wife married a man; I saw no reason why she should inherit a baby. I knew that ten or twelve thousand miles driving a truck, alone and unattended, over every kind of road, would be hard work, but to me it represented the antidote for the poison of the professional sick man. And in my own life I am not willing to trade quality for quantity. If this projected journey should proved too much then it was time to go anyway. I see to many men delay their exits with a sickly, slow reluctance to leave the stage. It's bad theater as well as bad living. I am very fortunate in having a wife who likes men, not elderly babies. Although this last foundation for the journey was never discussed, I am sure she understood it.

Not many people understood her. She loved visiting temples. She loved children and flowers, simple things and actually everything reminded her of God's Love. She found Kindness more beautiful than anything of this world. She breathed in Faith and trusted God no matter what. She was free as a bird and travelled far and wide only to know in her heart that one day she will find what Her Soul's been searching for since eternity in God's Timing. She was often looked at as pretty and intelligent, and she loved the compliments but when someone called her Godloving that stole her heart. She loved dreams and knew that all she ever wants is a Man who could walk beside her, hand in hand, living dreams and following passions in a journey of Love's adventure. She didn't just want to be a wife, she wanted to be a partner in dreams, a co-sharer of aspirations, a travel mate through the happiness and difficulties of Life. She wasn't looking for a smooth sail, she knew every bond has trying moments, just that she wanted someone who would stand by her every step of the way, just like she would have his back every single time. She wasn't looking for a hero, she was looking for an equal, a soul-counterpart sailing through life with Love, Respect and Passion. She wasn't looking for a ring, she was waiting for a Heart that was already written in the stars as hers forever. And she knew no matter what, someday someone will come who will bend his knees before God and ask Him to make her all of his, not just for a temporary timespan but for lifetimes that their souls needed to take human shape in. She knows someday she wouldn't visit temples alone, someone would stand right beside her and together they would pray for the family that would create in the blessings of Him who has already got it all planned. - and the right person would understand her because God understands Souls and Love.

In On Christian Doctrine, one of the great classics of Christian literature, Augustine draws a careful distinction between using things and enjoying things. He pictures us as exiles longing to return from a foreign land to our own country, where our true happiness lies. We are therefore pilgrims: travelers on the journey home. As with all travelers, we need certain things to help us arrive at our destination, including refreshment along the way. But there’s a problem, says Augustine, if we become so delighted with the pleasures of the journey that we’re unwilling to finish it quickly. If we’re not careful, we will lose interest in our home country, the place where true happiness awaits. When this happens, we’ve started to unduly enjoy the things that God intended to be used in helping us in our progress. And so as Augustine says, “If we wish to return to our home country, where alone we can be truly happy, we have to use this world, not enjoy it.”109

hank you." These two magic words are perhaps the most neglected in our vocabulary. When I thank someone for doing something nice for me-sending me a present, cooking dinner for me, or doing me a special favor, they feel appreciated. There's something special about hand-written notes. For one thing, the recipient can read them over and over again, enjoying the friendship represented and the sentiment. The flip side is that saying "thank you" also makes me feel better. It reminds me of the nice thing the other person did for me. y friend, you don't have to travel life alone. I don't know what your personal journey has been or what earthquakes are shaking your foundations. I don't know what worries keep you up at night, what pains sap your strength, or what drags down your spirit. But no matter what road you're traveling, I do know the Lord is beside you every step of the way. Sometimes you'll see Him when you look back at your path and see what He's been doing. When you suffer, He'll wrap you in His arms. When your strength gives out, He'll carry you or give you strength. And when the ground beneath you seems to give way, He will steady your feet and put you on solid ground. God is with you! ake up and smell the roses!" I love a garden, don't you? What a relief to have a place where the trees and plants clean and refresh the air. A garden is also a place where

The cruise was the conduit for what would become my third book. While I was traveling and writing for ctnow.com, women across the United States and from the Caribbean emailed not to ask about my geographic journey but my existential one. “How do you find the courage to travel on your own?” they wondered. “How do you keep from getting lonely? Don’t you feel self-conscious eating out alone?” After the first 30 emails like these I thought, There’s a book here. It would be eight years before I published Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road. But the inspiration for publication came during the cruise.

Panhandle's residence was situated in a remote part of the country, and at this moment I have no clear recollection of the complicated journey, with its many changes at little-known junctions, which I had to make in order to find my friend. The residence stood in the midst of elevated woodlands, and was well hidden by the trees. An immense sky-sign, standing out high above all other objects and plainly visible to the traveller from whatever side he made his approach, had been erected on the roof. The sky-sign carried the legend "No Psychologists!" It turned with the wind, gyrating continually, and when darkness fell the letters were outlined in electric lamps. Only a blind man could miss the warning. This legend was repeated over the main entrance to the grounds, with the addition of the word "Beware!" I thought of mantraps and ferocious dogs, and for some minutes I stood before the gates, wondering if it would be safe for me to enter. At last, remembering how several friends had assured me that I was "no psychologist," I concluded that little harm awaited me, plucked up my courage, and boldly advanced. Beyond the gates I found the warning again repeated with a more emphatic truculence and a finer particularity. At intervals along the drive I saw notice-boards projecting from the barberries and the laurels, each with some new version of the original theme. "Death to the Psychology of Religion" were the words inscribed on one. The next was even more precise in its application, and ran as follows:— "Inquisitive psychologists take notice! Panhandle has a gun, And will not hesitate to shoot." Somewhat shaken I approached the front door and was startled to see a long, glittering thing suddenly thrust through an open window in the upper storey; and the man behind the weapon was unquestionably Panhandle himself. "Can it be," I said aloud, "that Panhandle has taken me for an inquisitive psychologist?" "Advance," cried my host, who had a keen ear for such undertones. "Advance and fear nothing." A moment later he grasped me warmly by the hand, "Welcome, dearest of friends," he was saying. "You have arrived at an opportune moment. The house is full of guests who are longing to meet you." "But, Panhandle," I expostulated as we stood on the doorstep, "I understood we were to be alone. I have come for one purpose only, that you might explain your familiarity with—with those people." I used this expression, rather than one more explicit, because the footman was still present, knowing from long experience how dangerous it is to speak plainly about metaphysical realities in the hearing of the proletariat. "Those very people are now awaiting you," said Panhandle, as he drew me into the library. "I will be quite frank with you at once. This house is haunted; and if on consideration you find your nerves unequal to an encounter with ghosts, you had better go back at once, for there is no telling how soon the apparitions will begin.

Alone in the dark, the Creator lights a flame of fire, to guide my path.

An accurate budget must be built on a base of thorough research. You must do research on your community to find out what it will cost to get a church off the ground. You need to solidly answer questions such as:, What will the cost of living in this community be?, What will my salary be? How about salaries for additional staff?, How much will it cost to rent space for the church to meet in?, How much will it cost to operate a business in this city (office rent, phones, computer equipment, copy equipment, and so on)? Talk with other pastors in the community. Find out what their start-up costs were and what they are currently spending to maintain and operate the church. Other pastors can be a valuable resource for you on many levels. The worst mistake you can make is to start the budget process by viewing economic realities through a rose-colored lens. If you speculate too much or cut corners in this area, you’ll end up paying dearly down the road. Remember, God never intended for you to go it alone. There are people and resources out there to help you prepare. Ask others for help. God receives no glory when you are scraping the bottom to do His work. So don’t think too small. Church planting is an all or nothing venture. You can’t just partially commit. You have to fully commit, and often that means with your wallet. Don’t underestimate the importance of having a base of prayer partners. You need prayers as desperately as you need money. You need prayers as desperately as you need money. An unhealthy launch may occur when a new church begins as the result of a church split, when a planter is disobedient in following God, or when there is a lack of funding or solid strategy. Finding the right teammates to help you on this journey is serious business. The people you bring on to your staff will either propel you down the road toward fulfilling the vision for your church or serve as speed bumps along the way. You should never be afraid to ask potential staff members to join you—even if it means a salary cut, a drastic position change or a significant new challenge for them. When you ask someone to join your staff, you are not asking that person to make a sacrifice. (If you have that mentality, you need to work to change it.) Instead, you are offering that person the opportunity of a lifetime. There are three things that every new church must have before it can be a real church: (1) a lead pastor, (2) a start date, and (3) a worship leader. Hire a person at the part-time level before bringing him or her on full time. When hiring a new staff person, make sure he or she possesses the three C's: Character, Chemistry & Competency Hiring staff precedes growth, not vice versa. Hire slow, fire fast. Never hire staff when you can find a volunteer. Launch as publicly as possible, with as many people as possible. There are two things you are looking for in a start date: (1) a date on which you have the potential to reach as many people as possible, and (2) a date that precedes a period of time in which people, in general, are unlikely to be traveling out of town. You need steppingstones to get you from where you are to your launch date. Monthly services are real services that you begin holding three to six months prior to your launch date. They are the absolute best strategic precursor to your launch. Monthly services give you the invaluable opportunity to test-drive your systems, your staff and, to an extent, even your service style. At the same time, you are doing real ministry with the people in attendance. These services should mirror as closely as possible what your service will look like on the launch date. Let your target demographic group be the strongest deciding factor in settling on a location: Hotel ballrooms, Movie theaters, Comedy clubs, Public-school auditoriums, Performing-arts theaters, Available church meeting spaces, College auditoriums, Corporate conference space.

If on the journey of life a man can find a wise and intelligent friend who is good and self-controlled, let him go with that traveller; and in joy and recollection let them overcome the dangers of the journey. But if on the journey of life a man cannot find a wise and intelligent friend who is good and self-controlled, let him then travel alone...

It seemed to me a lot of people had marrying on the mind in Louisiana. As if there was something like an unfinished sentence about a woman of 19 traveling alone. Perhaps, in the south, it was just hard to imagine that, “A woman of 19 travels alone.” was a complete sentence.

Dear Heavenly Father, I have traveled a lot of painful roads, and I felt like I was alone. There were times I wasn’t sure You were there with me. I did things of my own accord that were not wise. I didn’t consult You. I wish I had. I have caused myself and others grief. I want to change that. You said that if I confess my sins, You are faithful and just, and You would forgive me. Father, forgive me for the pain I have caused myself and others—both intentionally and unintentionally. I want to know You as a Good Father, the way You intended it to be from

And far at the end of this journey we must travel alone, there is the terror I cannot face, for the possibility of it is too horrible to even contemplate—

Who doesn’t like to be a center for concern? A kind of second childhood falls on so many men. They trade their violence for the promise of a small increase of life span. In effect, the head of the house becomes the youngest child. And I have searched myself for this possibility with a kind of horror. For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I’ve lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment. I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage. My wife married a man; I saw no reason why she should inherit a baby. I knew that ten or twelve thousand miles driving a truck, alone and unattended, over every kind of road, would be hard work, but to me it represented the antidote for the poison of the professional sick man. And in my own life I am not willing to trade quality for quantity. If this projected journey should prove too much then it was time to go anyway. I see too many men delay their exits with a sickly, slow reluctance to leave the stage. It’s bad theater as well as bad living. I am very fortunate in having a wife who likes being a woman, which means that she likes men, not elderly babies. Although this last foundation for the journey was never discussed, I am sure she understood it.

I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don’t know where it will take me, because I don’t know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I’m compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it’s here that I meet others. But I’m neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I’m sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing – for myself alone – wispy songs I compose while waiting. Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I’m given and the soul I was given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don’t read it, or are not entertained, that’s fine too.

We helped to move Cory a certain distance on her journey. Each leg will take someone different so she doesn’t grow too dependent upon any one person. She had to go to Earth. That was her time to find her daughters. As Terry and Char had to go to Onyx Station. As Marcie and Kaeden had to go wherever they needed to go. We have our own journeys to follow, but our paths are inextricably linked. We travel together when we can, alone when we must, but we never forget how far we’ve come.

FOR THE REAL ADVENTURE of travel is mental. It is about total immersion in a place, because nobody from any other place can contact you. You are alone. Thus your life is narrowed to what is immediately before your eyes, making the experience of it that much more vivid and life-transforming.

Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming – WOW – What a Ride!

The usual dodge for loners is to read or make journal entries or watch scenery intently, but that's a giveaway. The mark of a person travelling alone is to look resolute.

Imagine yourself in a situation where you have recently been overly anxious. Now take a minute and imagine yourself back in that situation but this time in a calm frame of mind. See yourself calm and in control, feel yourself relaxed and at ease. Would you be happier? Would you do anything differently in that situation if you didn’t have anxiety? Take your time and use all of your senses to imagine this scenario. How much better will your life be when you can approach life in this calm way? 2. Imagine the things you would do if you didn’t have anxiety or panic attacks. Take a while to think about this, because this will be your motivation. It doesn’t have to be anything monumental. It could just be walking in the park or getting your groceries. Maybe going to the movies, hanging out with your friends, travelling to the city you’ve always dreamed of. My motivation was just to feel safe being alone and not having my phone with me – as simple as that. It can really help if you know why you are doing this and why you want to get better.

She learned from the passport office that she would need her husband’s permission in order to leave the country with the baby, and her father’s permission to leave at all. To stem the flow of young Tunisians to Syria, the government had started imposing often arbitrary travel restrictions on citizens under thirty-five. The cost of the journey, the air tickets alone, amounted to more than she had.

If heaven is the Lord's, the earth is the inheritance of man and consequently any honest traveller has the right to walk as he chooses, all over that globe which is his. What I heard was the thousand-year-old echo of thoughts which are re-thought over and over again in the East and which, nowadays, appear to have fixed their stronghold in the majestic heights of Thibet. I am one of the Genghis Khan race who, by mistake, and perhaps for her sins, was born in the Occident. So I was once told by a lama. I saw a wolf passing near us. It trotted by with the busy, yet calm gait of a serious gentleman going to attend to some affair of importance. The true Blissful Paradise which, being nowhere and everywhere, lies in the mind of each one of us. How happy I was to be there. en route for the mystery of these unexplored heights, alone in the great silence, "tasting the sweets of solitude and tranquility", as a passage of the Buddhist Scripture has it. Human credulity, be it in the East or in the West, has no limits. In India, the Brahmins have for centuries kept their countrymen to the opinion that offering presents to those belonging to their caste and feeding them, was a highly meritorious religious work. As a rule, the place where grain is ground is the cleanest in a Thibetan house. Asiatics do not feel, as we do, the need of privacy and silence in sleep.

grieving was a lonely personal journey; it would have been better to have travelled alone.

I’d like to think the old stories would be cheering us on. Most land, if left alone, will return to woodland naturally over time, and we would be wise to allow more space for wild processes and wild places in these beloved islands. As we travel such uncertain times, and learn to change and adapt, there will be new woodland stories to tell. I hope you find inspiration here for the journey ahead.

Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind.” Henri Frederick Amiel in the closet “When you close your doors, and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within.

Teresa (Saint Teresa of Avila) herself was starved for such companionship, especially when her mystical experiences of God reached a cosmic level to which no one else could relate. If is a great comfort to be understood by others who trust and believe in the personal experiences that we share with them, especially those for which there are no witnesses....When Teresa was fifty-two years old, she met John of the Cross, who was then only twenty-five. After they exchanged their experiences of God, they recognized each other as soul companions. In John, Teresa finally found someone with whom she could share the mystery of her life with God. After they met, she no longer needed to prove or defend her experiences of the soul. (Sadly, John burned all their correspondence shortly before his death.) Teresa emphasized the need for companions on the spiritual journey. No one should travel through her Castle alone, she wrote again and again. Teresa knew firsthand the difficulty of inner work required of the soul pilgrim, who was as likely to experience a dark night of the soul, to borrow a phrase from John of the Cross, as she was to experience the light and grace of liberation.

Because there is a growing belief among the community of thinking beings that by 2050 men and women will be marrying human like robots. At that point, how Craig Raine will describe his experiences will be fascinating to know. And in my imagination I have already travelled with the Green Man into the future called 2075 and witnessed How humans will experience love in 2075. Because this science fiction novel navigates through the possibility of men and women falling in love with machines, without knowing they are robots imitating human emotions. Will you still dare to fall in love in 2075 or will you strive to tell the difference between a human lover and a robotic lover? Now it is your turn to join the Green Man on this exciting journey into 2075, where he will reveal to you what the world would look like in 2075, and take you on an excitingly epic journey with the protagonist, Saabir, who criss crosses the highways and all by ways of emotional trajectory in the midst of synthetic emotions and feelings that engulf him. To know more, travel with the Green Man via the science fiction titled, They Loved in 2075. With this anticipation I shall dream of you tonight and hope that you will be able to unlock the alien imagination within you, to realise the part of you that is from Heaven. If you have any doubts, here is the poem by ​​Craig Raine to make you a dreamer who while asleep is always awake in his/her subconscious state too. Because he/she has learned the art of having a rendezvous with the light that radiates through the universe, to eventually settle in a dreamer's eyes who dares to dream beyond the ordinary and the 3 dimensional reality. "A Martian Sends A Postcard Home” Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings and some are treasured for their markings-- they cause the eyes to melt or the body to shriek without pain. I have never seen one fly, but sometimes they perch on the hand. Mist is when the sky is tired of flight and rests its soft machine on the ground: then the world is dim and bookish like engravings under tissue paper Rain is when the earth is television. It has the properites of making colours darker. Model T is a room with the lock inside -- a key is turned to free the world for movement, so quick there is a film to watch for anything missed. But time is tied to the wrist or kept in a box, ticking with impatience. In homes, a haunted apparatus sleeps, that snores when you pick it up. If the ghost cries, they carry it to their lips and soothe it to sleep with sounds. And yet, they wake it up deliberately, by tickling with a finger. Only the young are allowed to suffer openly. Adults go to a punishment room with water but nothing to eat. They lock the door and suffer the noises alone. No one is exempt and everyone's pain has a different smell. At night, when all the colours die, they hide in pairs and read about themselves -- in colour, with their eyelids shut. Dedicated to you, the Green Man and Saabir who hails from 2075 and dares to love a real woman in 2075 because he loves her a lot!

It is normal to feel alone at the start of any journey. It’s the people who you meet along your travels that make the trip more interesting.

A few weeks after my injury, when I was in the rehab center, I found someone willing to travel to the center to give me a massage. Partway through, she suggested trying something called Reiki. This is where instead of touching you, the masseuse waves their hands through the air over you to “adjust your energy fields.” You can probably tell by the way that I describe this that I think this is a bunch of BS. Does it work for some people? Of course it does. The placebo effect can work with any type of treatment or medication by providing someone with an improvement if and when they expect to get one. The nice doctor in the white lab coat gives you some pills and says, “Take two of these each morning, and your pain should feel much better.” The medication that the doctor gives you could be nothing more than sugar pills. Still, if you really believe that you’ll benefit from it, your brain finds a way to make at least some improvement come true. In double-blind studies, it’s been proven that the placebo effect can provide as much as a 32 percent improvement. Because of this, for new drugs to be approved in the US, they need to test at a level that’s higher than the 32 percent placebo level of improvement. So, if I’d believed in Reiki, then I may have experienced some benefit from it, but I don’t, so I didn’t get anything out of the treatment. That said, I think it’s interesting that when dealing with chronic pain, the temptation is to try almost anything, no matter how crazy it sounds. The hope is that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to get some relief from your ongoing pain.

Honesty is the cornerstone of integrity, the foundation upon which all other aspects of your character will be built. But honesty alone is not sufficient to be a person of integrity. Integrity requires action. To be known as men and women of integrity you must demonstrate your moral backbone. You must be confronted with an ethical dilemma—a choice between one road that is rocky, steep, and treacherous and the other that is smooth, flat, and comfortable. One road tests your fortitude, the other provides an easy path. One is filled with temporary hardships and pain, the other is quick and easy. But in the end, if you choose the harder path less traveled, the path where the virtuous have walked, the journey will make you stronger, more resilient, and more capable of conquering the other steep climbs on your way to the top. While the second path, the easy way, will leave you unprepared for the future challenges of life.

The ultimate goal of life remains the spiritual growth of the individual, the solitary journey to peaks that can be climbed only alone.

Regardless of their state of mind right after death, my subjects are full of exclamations about rediscovered marvels of the spirit world. Usually, this feeling is combined with euphoria that all their worldly cares have been left behind, especially physical pain. Above all else, the spirit world represents a place of supreme quiescence to the traveling soul. Although it may at first appear we are alone immediately following death, we are not isolated or unaided. Unseen intelligent energy forces guide each of us through the gate.

The company has codified this as something it calls the “belong anywhere transformation journey,” which goes like this: When travelers leave their homes, they feel alone. They reach their Airbnb and they feel accepted and taken care of by their host. They then feel safe to be the same kind of person they are when they’re at home. And when that happens, they feel like freer, better, more complete versions of themselves, and their journey is complete.

The speed of light,' he explained. 'More specifically, how many metres per second light travels. I had it made after Aura was... gone. After you left for the west coast. I wanted something tangible I could hold on to. To remember. That I wasn't alone. I want you to take it. so that you remember. While you're away. You're never alone.' Jack leaned forward and ran a fingertip over the number sequence. 'The light in the stars that you'll look up and see in Denmark is travelling from the past. Some of that light started its journey when she was_' He looked to the dimming sky. Waited out the emotion. 'I want you to remember that some of the starlight you'll see every night in Denmark started its journey when Aura was still with us.' He finished. Esther clutched the keyring in her palm.

Naskar is made by Naskar alone, not an industry or benefactor - or more importantly, by family wealth. I had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back - that was more than enough. I started writing with literally zero dollar in my pocket. Let me tell you how it began, because for some reason, I completely forgot a crucial event of my life when I wrote my memoir Love, God & Neurons. I once met an American tourist at a local train in Calcutta. The first thing he asked me was, had I lived in the States? I said, no. Then how come you have an American accent - he asked. Watching movies - I said. We got chatting and he told me about a book he had recently published, a memoir. I believe, this was the cosmic event that planted the thought of writing my own books in my head - I had already started my self-education in Neurology and Psychology, and I was all determined to publish research papers on my ideas, but not books. Meeting the person somehow subconsciously shifted my focus from research papers to books. So the journey began. And for the first few years, I made no real money from my books. Occasionally some of my books would climb the bestsellers list on amazon, like my very first book did, and that would keep the bills paid for several months. Then the invitations for talks started coming, but they too were not paid in the beginning. The organizers made all the travel arrangements, and I gave the talks for free. It's ironic and super confusing really - I remember flying business class, but I didn't have enough money to even afford a one way flight ticket, because I had already used up my royalties on other expenses. Today I can pick and choose which speaking invitations to accept, but back then I didn't have that luxury - I was grateful for any speaking gig and interview request I received, paid or not. One time, I gave an interview to this moderately popular journalist for her personal youtube channel, only to find out, she never released the video publicly - she posted an interview with a dog owner instead - whose dog videos had gained quite a following on social media. You could say, this was the first time I realized first hand, what white privilege was. Anyway, the point is this. Did I doubt myself? Often. Did I consider quitting? Occasionally. But did I actually quit? Never. And because I didn't quit, the world received a vast never-before seen multicultural humanitarian legacy, that you know me for today. There is no such thing as overnight success. If you have a dream, you gotta work at it day in, day out - night after night - spoiling sleep, ruining rest, forgetting fun. Persist, persist, and persist, that's the only secret - there is no other. Remember this - the size of your pocket does not determine your destiny, the size of your dedication does.

Come meet me in the middle, somewhere between day and night, the beginning and the end, some place where crooked paths and rocky trails weave together, where the sky is clear and we can share the stars from different places. I want to see your moon rise as my sun settles. I want to know the world as you see it, the place where you stand as you sip your morning coffee and the expression on your face as you watch waves cascading over the sand. I want to know all of the crinkles on your face right before you smile. It’s not enough to know what you like and enjoy; I want to feel it too; I want to feel it the way you feel it. I want to know what the air you breathe tastes like and I want to share a pillow while we sleep. I don’t only want to be with you. I want to meet you in the middle, the place where winding paths on this crazy journey join together, the place where we no longer travel alone.

Fundamentals of Esperanto The grammatical rules of this language can be learned in one sitting. Nouns have no gender & end in -o; the plural terminates in -oj & the accusative, -on Amiko, friend; amikoj, friends; amikon & amikojn, accusative friend & friends. Ma amiko is my friend. A new book appears in Esperanto every week. Radio stations in Europe, the United States, China, Russia & Brazil broadcast in Esperanto, as does Vatican Radio. In 1959, UNESCO declared the International Federation of Esperanto Speakers to be in accord with its mission & granted this body consultative status. The youth branch of the International Federation of Esperanto Speakers, UTA, has offices in 80 different countries & organizes social events where young people curious about the movement may dance to recordings by Esperanto artists, enjoy complimentary soft drinks & take home Esperanto versions of major literary works including the Old Testament & A Midsummer Night’s Dream. William Shatner’s first feature-length vehicle was a horror film shot entirely in Esperanto. Esperanto is among the languages currently sailing into deep space on board the Voyager spacecraft. - Esperanto is an artificial language constructed in 1887 by L. L. Zamenhof, a polish oculist. following a somewhat difficult period in my life. It was twilight & snowing on the railway platform just outside Warsaw where I had missed my connection. A man in a crumpled track suit & dark glasses pushed a cart piled high with ripped & weathered volumes— sex manuals, detective stories, yellowing musical scores & outdated physics textbooks, old copies of Life, new smut, an atlas translated, a grammar, The Mirror, Soviet-bloc comics, a guide to the rivers & mountains, thesauri, inscrutable musical scores & mimeographed physics books, defective stories, obsolete sex manuals— one of which caught my notice (Dr. Esperanto since I had time, I traded my used Leaves of Grass for a copy. I’m afraid I will never be lonely enough. There’s a man from Quebec in my head, a friend to the purple martins. Purple martins are the Cadillac of swallows. All purple martins are dying or dead. Brainscans of grown purple martins suggest these creatures feel the same levels of doubt & bliss as an eight-year-old girl in captivity. While driving home from the brewery one night this man from Quebec heard a radio program about purple martins & the next day he set out to build them a house in his own back yard. I’ve never built anything, let alone a house, not to mention a home for somebody else. Never put in aluminum floors to smooth over the waiting. Never piped sugar water through colored tubes to each empty nest lined with newspaper shredded with strong, tired hands. Never dismantled the entire affair & put it back together again. Still no swallows. I never installed the big light that stays on through the night to keep owls away. Never installed lesser lights, never rested on Sunday with a beer on the deck surveying what I had done & what yet remained to be done, listening to Styx while the neighbor kids ran through my sprinklers. I have never collapsed in abandon. Never prayed. But enough about the purple martins. Every line of the work is a first & a last line & this is the spring of its action. Of course, there’s a journey & inside that journey, an implicit voyage through the underworld. There’s a bridge made of boats; a carp stuffed with flowers; a comic dispute among sweetmeat vendors; a digression on shadows; That’s how we finally learn who the hero was all along. Weary & old, he sits on a rock & watches his friends fly by one by one out of the song, then turns back to the journey they all began long ago, keeping the river to his right.

pressure on these lines would hamper Turkish troop movements and might even encourage local resistance once it was clear that the Turks could not long shift men for punitive actions. Even the Hawran Druze might be nudged towards a descent on Dera. Again everything hinged on the Druze. There is nothing of all this in the Seven Pillars beyond a reference to Lawrence’s unquiet state of mind on the eve of his journey: ‘A rash adventure suited my mood’ which, to judge from an all but erased note in his campaign jottings, was almost suicidal.41 Clayton. I’ve decided to go off alone to Damascus, hoping to get killed on the way: for all our sakes try and clear up this show before it goes further. We are calling them to fight for us on a lie. This is all very perplexing. Soon after, in the Seven Pillars version, Lawrence admitted to the haziest knowledge of what McMahon had offered Hussain and how the boundaries of French and British concessions in the Middle East had been drawn by Sykes and Picot. In the Seven Pillars he also confessed to bewildered shame when Nuri Shalaan proffered ‘a file of British documents’ allegedly filled with official promises, and asked which one he ought to believe. Lawrence remained silent about their contents and who had drawn them up. What is more bewildering is that, in his report to Clayton, Lawrence claimed he met Nuri and his son at el Azraq towards the end of the Syrian trip. Maybe then he briefly succumbed to a mood of despair. It would have been understandable, not in terms of what others had or had not promised the Arabs, but because all his Syrian contacts, including Nuri, had responded to his calls for bold commitment with wary procrastination. Lawrence was taking enormous risks by penetrating enemy territory where pro-Turkish sympathies were still widespread. There was, he claimed, a £5,000 reward for his capture, which, if true, suggests that Turkish intelligence was aware of his activities. In fact, the head money was a general reward first announced some months earlier by Fahreddin Pasha for British officers taken dead or alive.42 Whether he travelled in search of intelligence or whether to get killed