There's a terrible sense of dread filtering across America at the moment and it's not simply because of the continuing fear of terrorism and the fact that the nation is at war. It's more frightening than that. It grows out of the suspicion that we all may be passengers in a vehicle that has made a radically wrong turn and is barreling along a dark road, with its headlights off and with someone behind the wheel who may not know how to drive.
In our quest for living a pure, focused life that pleases God, we all hit the wall at one time or another. What do we do then? Give up. . . Not an option. I have had times when the road has gotten long. . . Those periods can be very challenging. When they happen, I go to God and ask for His strength for the journey.
See your road through.
It's a lonely road for those of us who choose to be remarkable, and the path of convention can sometimes be appealing. That path is paved with safe lives, middle of the road monotony, and little chance of failure. But where's the fun in being like everyone else out there?
I've lived the way I wanted to. I've walked the road the way I imagined it.
I was lonely driving here tonight so I hugged the road.
The road to national rebirth is a hard one, but there is no other.
As often as not our whole self. . . engages itself in the most trivial of things, the shape of a particular hill, a road in the town in which we lived as children, the movement of wind in grass. The things we shall take with us when we die will nearly all be small things.
The usual sniggering examples of animal behaviour were brought in to explain cheating. Funny how the behaviour of shrews and gibbons is never used to explain table manners or road safety or gardening, only sex. Anyway, it was bad Darwinism. Taking the example of a monkey and applying it to yourself misses the point that animal behaviour is made for the benefit of the species, not as an excuse for the individual. Being incapable of sustaining a stable pair and supporting children is really not in the interests of our species. Neither is it really in the best interests of the philanderer.
I feel like I'm worried about my later years in life because I feel like I'm using up so much good karma right now. There's going to be some sort of karmic backlash somewhere down the road.
I think maybe we die every day. Maybe we're born new each dawn, a little changed, a little further on our own road. When enough days stand between you and the person you were, you're strangers. Maybe that's what growing up is. Maybe I have grown up.
The idea of America's religious groups fighting over the limited public money to be made available takes us down the road towards the kind of sectarian competition that has torn so many nations apart, and which our separation of church and state has spared us.
I would read fishing reports on the road and then it just occurred to me: I should go to sea school and get my captain's license, see if I can get paid to be out here every day.
I grew up on a street called Cedar Wood Road and by coincidence my best friends that are around the age 10 became a guy called Bono and another guy called Guggi. It was music again. The fact that pulled us together. They found me quite interesting because I had the right albums underneath my arm. Those days where you carry the latest David Bowie album or Roxie music album as you go to school. I mean you can't play an album at school but you were being cool just showing, "Look what I got. "
To build a road is so much simpler than to think of what the country really needs.
I love the music, but being on the road ain't a piece of cake, but it is real rewarding. You've got to - all those people can't come to my house, so I've got to go out on the road and play for them.
The Fitchburg Railroad touches the pond about a hundred rods south of where I dwell. I usually go to the village along its causeway, and am, as it were, related to society by this link. The men on the freight trains, who go over the whole length of the road, bow to me as to an old acquaintance, they pass me so often, and apparently they take me for an employee; and so I am. I too would fain be a track-repairer somewhere in the orbit of the earth.
Hit the road Jack, don'tcha come back no more, no more, no more, no more. Hit the road Jack, don'tcha come back no more.
There is no road towards peace; peace is the road
The road to heaven lies as near by water as by land.