Walking is a way of being somewhere, rather than striving to arrive.

Few things are more pleasant than a village graced with a good church, a good priest and a good pub.

There is scarce a cave, an isolated rock, a lone pine tree or a pile of stones without supporting folklore.

The way a good rod first flexes and then extends its muscles as the line quickens, tightens, rises off the water and does figure eights in mid-air is one of the miracles of humanly applied dynamics.

Walking is a way of being somewhere, rather than striving to arrive.