Best 470 quotes in «walking quotes» category

Those unmindful when they hear, for all they make of their intelligence, may be regarded as the walking dead.

Walking along the crowded row He met the one he used to know.

Trying to find a heart that's not walking away.

Walk at the edge of the precipices! It is the best way to learn walking carefully!

Walking is almost as important as breathing, for me.

Walking articulates both physical and mental freedom.

Walking with God doesn't lead to God's favor; God's favor leads to walking with God.

Walking is the only way proven to stave off cognitive decline - it works.

Walking on water wasn't built in a day.

Walking beside you I want for nothing.

Walking has the best value as gymnastics of the mind.

Walking in the nature is a reincarnation!

When walking, just walk. When sitting, just sit. Above all, don't wobble.

We were now arrived at the close of our solitary journeyings along the St. Joseph's trail.

When in a museum, walk slowly but keep walking.

When walking in open territory, bother no one. If someone bothers you, ask him to stop. If he does not stop, destroy him.

We grow fearless by walking into our fears.

We may not understand the pathways God lays out before us. We may not even like walking the journey. But even in failure, we can trust that He’ll do more than we expect.

We went our separate ways, but within walking distance of one another.

When I'm just walking around, I swap between the British and the American, and when I'm with my family I'm with my Nigerian accent.

When I was younger, I felt like I could say anything and it was funny. I've started to realize that what I say and do does affect everybody around us. I'm not just talking about what you put on a record - even just walking into a store and how you interact with the person behind the checkout counter.

When walking into the lair of the dragon after robbing his hoard, the least you could do is hold you head high [...]

When you're walking into the stadium, you just say to yourself, 'the 100m is the same anywhere, the shot put is the same weight anywhere.'

You can fool a person into going to see a movie with a good trailer.

You better hope that I never see you walking down the street while I’m driving my car! (Tory)

You can either keep walking in misery or make the decision to begin taking steps out of it.

You are always walking in the direction of either love or fear. Choose wisely.

You can see darn near anything just by walking along the beachfront from Venice to Malibu.

A dog is one of the few remaining reasons why some people can be persuaded to go for a walk.

You have to get out of the boat so you can know the intimacy of walking with Jesus.

You're right on the money with that. We're all like detectives in life. There's something at the end of the trail that we're all looking for.

Accepting and walking in a good counsel paves way for the unborn generation

You can't get to courage without walking through vulnerability.

You can't replicate walking 94 days through the wilderness by yourself with a really heavy pack until you do it.

You don't walk with your feet; you walk with your courage! No courage, no walking!

You know that thing when you break up with someone and you’re walking around the town where you both live and you’re just really hoping to see them? You know that you’re not supposed to see them, but there’s nothing you want more.

Acceptance of death and cancer did not mean I intended to give up, just the opposite. I was prepared to fight cancer not out of fear of dying, but out of joy of living.

A journey begins with a single step

A garden path,' write the landscape architects Charles W. Moore, William J. Mitchell, and William Turnbull, 'can become the thread of a plot, connecting moments and incidents into a narrative. The narrative structure might be a simple chain of events with a beginning, middle, and end. It might be embellished with diversions, digressions, and picaresque twists, be accompanied by parallel ways (subplots), or deceptively fork into blind alleys like the alternative scenerios explored in a detective novel.

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.

Aliganaya - 'the embrace during an intoxicated walk' or 'sudden arousal while driving over speed bumps

All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.

A long walk is a slow remembering of how profound and wonderful life is; God is everywhere and in everything. Wherever I look I am looking at God.

All of us learned how to walk by failing.

All things can be deadly to us, even the things made to serve us; as in nature walls can kill us, and stairs can kill us, if we do not walk circumspectly.

although there was no definite religious sentiment mingled with it, there was a continual perception of Sanctity in the whole of nature, from the slightest thing to the vastest; - an instinctive awe, mixed with delight; an indefinable thrill, such as we sometimes imagine to indicate the presence of a disembodied spirit. I could only feel this perfectly when I was alone … when after begin some time away from the hills, I first got to the shore of a mountain river … or when I saw the first swell of distant land against the sunset, or the first low broken wall, covered with mountain moss. I cannot in the least describe the feeling … for I am afraid, no feeling is describable. If we had to explain even the sense of bodily hunger to a person who had never felt it, we should be hard put to it for words; and this joy in nature seemed to me to come of a sort of heart-hunger, satisfied with the presence of a Great and Holy Spirit …

All that remains of the garden city in our own day are traffic-free enclaves, islands in a sea of traffic where the pedestrian leads a legally protected by languishing existence, comparable to that of the North American Indians on their reservations...In reality the modern urbanist regards the city as a gigantic centre of production, geared to the efficient transport of workers and goods, to the accommodation of people and the storage of wares, to industrial and commercial activity. The rest, that is to say creativity, life, is optional and comes under the heading of recreation and leisure activities.

A man without a filter, is chaos walking

Always walk as if you’re running late, it’s healthier.

And that luck was only fate's cheating, giving an illusion of power. But that illusion lingered, and I became restless. I decided to act, to challenge fate. (...) I gained courage; every afternoon I walked a little farther. And one day I got there.