journeys

If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee.

Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.

Consider a man riding a bicycle. Whoever he is, we can say three things about him. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. Most important of all, we know that if, at any point between the beginning and the end of his journey he stops moving and does not get off the bicycle, he will fall off it. That is a metaphor for the journey through life of any living thing, and I think of any society of living things.

And I may dine at journey's end With Landor and with Donne.

Mathematics is not a careful march down a well-cleared highway, but a journey into a strange wilderness, where the explorers often get lost. Rigour should be a signal to the historian that the maps have been made, and the real explorers have gone elsewhere.

It is good to have an end to towards; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.

It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.

A wayfarer carried a heavy sack about which he complained unceasingly. From none could he get help or comfort. And as he slowly journeyed, groaning under his burden, the Angel of Optimism came to him and spoke kindly, saying: "Brother, what does thou carry?" The man answered surlily, "My worries." The angel smiled pityingly upon him and said, "Let us look into thy burden and examine thy worries." And so they looked in. But lo! the sack was empty. "Why surely," cried the man, "there were two great worries, too heavy for man to bear. But-ah, yes, I had forgot-one was a worry of yesterday, and so it is gone." "And the other?" "That-why, that was a worry of tomorrow, and it-it has not yet come." Then the angel smiled with infinite pity, saying: "Hearken! He who bows himself down under the worries of yesterday and tomorrow wears himself out for naught. But he who carries only the worries of today has no need of a sack for his sorrows. If thou will cast this black thing aside, and give all thy strength and cheer and courage to the things of today, real misfortune never can burden thee." Wondering, the man did as the angel commanded. And as he took up his journey and went lightly, swiftly on, his heart and his hands were free to relieve many a brother wayfarer of his burden and to pluck sweet fruits and flowers along the wayside. And when he came at last to the setting of the sun it was with smiles and a song.

To live is to go on a journey; to die is to come back home.

Shamrock of foliage, Shamrock of entwining, Shamrock of the prayer, Shamrock of my love. Shamrock of my sorrow, Plant of Patrick of the virtues, Shamrock of the Son of Mary, Journey's end of the peoples. Shamrock of grace, Of joy, of the tombs, It were my wish in death You should grow on my grave.