Journey - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
These embryonic oaks lay upon the grass, their browns a gift to the eyes. I could watch them a while, these acorns, let this moment of bliss extend as much as the light is spreading over the horizon... but the path wends onwards and there was much journeying ahead.
The path don't care about the terrain, that's for me to deal with. The path is the path. So whatever comes I keep going. When I get knocked down I have to get up, 'cause there's no other way. I know what's out there though, I know 'cause the universe told me. It said "just walk" and so I did, I still do. It says at the other end is peace, real happiness for everyone, and I gotta keep going even if the path makes me bleed. Sometimes it has, sometimes so much I just wanna stay down and feel the cold... then I remember why I started this journey and find my feet again. It's lonely though, and I think some company would be nice if you can be brave enough. It's freedom, it's duty, it's leading and following. I can't promise comfort, but there's plenty of stuff to kindle your soul and bring the sorts of smiles you thought only belonged to the stars.
After every mountain peak there's another, yet the climbing is everything. With each stretch I reach higher; with each stride I'm stronger, I keep gaining a little more to carry me through the times of hardship. I feel the winter wind as a coldness to teach me to stay warm inside. I feel sharp rocks as a whisper to walk lightly. Those times the clouds shower me with their icy love, I let it remind me of the tears I prevent by walking these ways... and it makes me move all the faster. That's why I win, 'cause I learn from what's hard and sprint when the weather is fair. So if you wanna walk with me, that would be so sweet, just watch me and learn. One day you'll be the master teaching and I'll be in my rocking chair on some sunny porch. So, are you coming or what?
The road don't rise and the road don't sink, it's me that does the walking. Every day it's right there and I can ride it anywhere or sit here on this curb. It can be so hot come summertime, yet in truth it's simply giving back what went in, finding balance as the dawn approaches, ready for each new day. I see the places we did hopscotch as kids, throwing down them stones, leaping in time to our rhymes. I see the road in the right here and now, these shoes feeling how the it pushes back softly, always supporting, never asking. And in that moment I hear it calling with it's sweet song of other places, all of them connected by the breathing land that runs under that tarmac, under oceans and mountains. That's how I know I've gotta go, go with the road, take her curves and junctions, pause at the red, go at the green.
After that they went on again; and now the road struck westwards and left the river, and the great shoulder of the south-pointing mountain-spur drew ever nearer. At length they reached the hill path. It scrambled steeply up, and they plodded slowly one behind the other, till at last in the late afternoon they came to the top of the ridge and saw the wintry sun going downwards to the west.
The journey that lay before them would be peril on peril. There was no safe way through the badlands and even if they made it through they would have to sail around the peninsula and through the hangman straights. After that the seas were poorly charted, almost no-one ever made it that far and even fewer came back.