“The morning is full of stormin the heart of summer.The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye,the wind, travelling, waving them in its hands.The numberless heart of the windbeating above our loving silence.Orchestral and divine, resounding among the treeslike a language full of wars and songs.”

“For me there is only the traveling on paths that have heart, on any path that may have heart, and the only worthwhile challenge is to traverse its full length--and there I travel looking, looking breathlessly.”

“Green mountains rise to the north;white water rolls past the eastern city.Once it has been uprooted,the tumbleweed travels forever.Drifting clouds like a wanderer's mind;sunset, like the heart of your old friend.We turn, pause, look back and wave,Even our ponies look back and whine.”

“We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered.”

“We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us. Even while the earth sleeps we travel. We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered.”

“The world is full of marvels, if you're willing to travel far enough to see them.”