And to walk through life in dreams out of love for the hand that guides us.

Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path. . .

Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.

My soul is not asleep. It is awake, wide awake. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but watches, its eyes wide open far-off things, and listens at the shores of the great silence.

Beyond living and dreaming there is something more important: waking up.

I thought my fire was out, and stirred the ashes…. I burnt my fingers.

Traveler, there is no path, the path must be forged as you walk.

I dreamt -- marvellous error! -- that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.

Under all that we think, lives all we believe, like the ultimate veil of our spirits

What the poet is searching for is not the fundamental I but the deep you.

Avoid pulpits, platforms, stages and pedestals. Keep to the hard ground. It is the only way you can judge your approximate status as a man.

I am not afraid to die

They love their hair because they're not smart enough to love something more interesting.

Your fear will always be triggered by your creativity, because creativity asks you to enter into the realms of uncertain outcome, and fear hates uncertain outcome.

…and he wasn't reconciled to dying. Dora told him he was going to a better world. "Mebbe, mebbe, " says poor Ben, "but I'm sorter used to the imperfections of this one.

For it is only habit and memory that dulls the physical passion. Without memory, each night is the first night, each morning is the first morning, each kiss and touch are the first.

A nail is driven out by another nail. Habit is overcome by habit.

In all of its vulnerability, profound sincerity does, in its relationship to knowledge, find its way.

Like bones to the human body, the axle to the wheel, the wing to the bird, and the air to the wing, so is liberty the essence of life. Whatever is done without it is imperfect.

I realize Tiger Woods is Tiger Woods; he's intimidating.

The only thing I've been concerned about is whether I could grow my heart thing enough to protect me from the harsh western Canadian winter.