Instead of insight, maybe all a man gets is strength to wander for a while.

The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself.

You never feel better than when you start feeling good after you've been feeling bad.

One of the sweet and expectable aspects of life afloat is the perpetual present moment one lives in and a perception that time is nothing more than the current, an eternal flowing back to the sea.

Other than to amuse himself, why should a man pretend to know where he's going or understand what he sees?

Get out and find ...the country. And ourselves.

Instead of insight, maybe all a man gets is strength to wander for a while. Maybe the only gift is a chance to inquire, to know nothing for certain. An inheritance of wonder and nothing more.