I sometimes wander whether all pleasures are not substitutes for joy.
By experience we find out a short way by a long wandering.
Wander often, wonder always.
You cannot make it as a wandering generality. You must become a meaningful specific.
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.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
Lest he should wander irretrievably from the right path, he stands still.
All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.
One wanders to the left, another to the right.
Both are equally in error, but, are seduced by different delusions.
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!
When they talk of ghosts of the dead who wander in the night with things still undone in life, they approximate my subjective experience of this life.
And when night, darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
When twilight drops her curtain downAnd pins it with a starRemember that you have a friendThough she may wander far.
O Lord, wandering with thee, even hell itself would be to me a heaven of bliss.
Not all who wander are lost.
If a man's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics.
Men know they are sexual exiles. They wander the earth seeking satisfaction, craving and despising, never content. There is nothing in that anguished motion for women to envy.
Don't let your mind go wandering, its too small to go out by itself.
Not all those who wander are lost.
The greatest gift a parent can give a child is unconditional love.
As a child wanders and strays, finding his bearings, he needs a sense of absolute love from a parent. There's nothing wrong with tough love, as long as the love is unconditional.
Multitudes of people, drifting aimlessly to and fro without a set purpose, deny themselves such fulfillment of their capacities, and the satisfying happiness which attends it. They are not wicked, they are only shallow. They are not mean or vicious; they simply are empty -- shake them and they would rattle like gourds. They lack range, depth, and conviction. Without purpose their lives ultimately wander into the morass of dissatisfaction. As we harness our abilities to a steady purpose and undertake the long pull toward its accomplishment, rich compensations reward us. A sense of purpose simplifies life and therefore concentrates our abilities; and concentration adds power.
There are people who read too much: bibliobibuli.
I know some who are constantly drunk on books, as other men are drunk on whiskey or religion. They wander through this most diverting and stimulating of worlds in a haze, seeing nothing and hearing nothing.
Not all those who wander are lost.
O Star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, to waft us home the message of despair?
It is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander through his regions of enchantment without having a critic, forever, like the old man of the sea, upon his back.
We are so much the victims of abstraction that with the Earth in flames we can barely rouse ourselves to wander across the room and look at the thermostat.
Not all who wander are lost
I am a wanderer passionately in love with life.
It is better, then, to save the work while it is begun.
You have done the labor; maintain itkeep it. If men choose to serve you, go with them; but as you have made up your organization upon principle, stand by it; for, as surely as God reigns over you, and has inspired your mind, and given you a sense of propriety, and continues to give you hope, so surely will you still cling to these ideas, and you will at last come back after your wanderings, merely to do your work over again.
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,Who never to himself hath said,This is my own, my native land!Whose heart hath neer within him burnd,As home his footsteps he hath turnd,From wandering on a foreign strand!
I suppose that Paderewski can play superbly, if not quite at his best, while his thoughts wander to the other end of the world, or possibly busy themselves with a computation of the receipts as he gazes out across the auditorium. I know a great actor, a master technician, can let his thoughts play truant from the scene...
We all know that sponges grow in the ocean but I wander how much deeper the ocean would be if that wasn't the case.
America -- rather, the United States -- seems to me to be the Jew among the nations. It is resourceful, adaptable, maligned, envied, feared, imposed upon. It is warm-hearted, over-friendly; quick-witted, lavish, colorful; given to extravagant speech and gestures; its people are travelers and wanderers by nature, moving, shifting, restless; swarming in Fords, in ocean liners; craving entertainment; volatile. The chuckle among the nations of the world.