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

...who can say where a voyage starts - not the the actual passage but the dream of a journey and its urge to find a way?

Without the errors, wrong turns and blind alleys, without the doubling back and misdirection and fumbling and chance discoveries, there was not one bit of joy in walking the labyrinth.

Life doesn't happen along interstates. It's against the law.

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

Somewhere lives a bad Cajun cook, just as somewhere must live one last ivory-billed woodpecker. For me, I don't expect ever to encounter either one.

A man who couldn't make things go right could at least go. He could quit trying to get out of the way of life. Chuck routine. Live the real jeopardy of circumstance. It was a question of dignity.