Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
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And she (the Roman Catholic Church) may still exist in undiminished vigor, when some traveller from New Zealand shall, in the midst of a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Paul's.
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A good traveller is one who does not know where he is going to, and a perfect traveller does not know where he came from.
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To be, or not to be that is the question Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them To die to sleep No more and by a sleep to say we end The heartache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,--'t is a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep perchance to dream ay, there's the rub For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.
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A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
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The dread of something after death, The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveller returns.
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I'm not a teacher only a fellow-traveller of whom you asked the way. I pointed ahead-ahead of myself as well as you.
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I am not a great cook, I am not a great artist, but I love art, and I love food, so I am the perfect traveller.
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The traveller has reached the end of the journey!
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We read that the traveller asked the boy if the swamp before him had a hard bottom. The boy replied that it had. But presently the traveller's...
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Your true traveller finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty - his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.
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When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind him.
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