I believe in walking in the Spirit.
Walking I am unbound, and find that precious unity of life and imagination, that silent outgoing self, which is so easy to loose, but which a high moments seems to start up again from the deepest rhythms of my own body. How often have I had this longing for an infinite walk - of going unimpeded, until the movement of my body as I walk fell into the flight of streets under my feet - until I in my body and the world in its skin of earth were blended into a single act of knowing.
I dressed and went for a walk - determined not to return until I took in what Nature had to offer.
I was walking an average of about two and a half miles a day, which is still more than most Americans. Most Americans don't even walk that.
If you want to know if your brain is flabby, feel your legs.
It's all still there in heart and soul. The walk, the hills, the sky, the solitary pain and pleasure-they will grow larger, sweeter, lovelier in the days and years to come.
If you are for a merry jaunt, I will try, for once, who can foot it farthest.
Walking is the natural recreation for a man who desires not absolutely to suppress his intellect but to turn it out to play for a season.
Gardening is a long road, with many detours and way stations, and here we all are at one point or another. It's not a question of superior or inferior taste, merely a question of which detour we are on at the moment. Getting there (as they say) is not important; the wandering about in the wilderness or in the olive groves or in the bayous is the whole point.
A vagrant is everywhere at home.
A garden should feel like a walk in the woods.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments! - long - long since had ye numbered out my days, had I not trod so great a part of them upon this enchanted ground. When my way is too rough for my feet, or too steep for my strength, I get off it, to some smooth velvet path which fancy has scattered over with rose-buds of delights; and have taken a few turns on it, come back strengthened and refreshed.
Happy is the man who has acquired the love of walking for its own sake!
The rhythm of walking generates a kind of rhythm of thinking, and the passage through a landscape echoes or stimulates the passage through a series of thoughts. The creates an odd consonance between internal and external passage, one that suggests that the mind is also a landscape of sorts and that walking is one way to traverse it. A new thought often seems like a feature of the landscape that was there all along, as though thinking were traveling rather than making.
Every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us.
I learned that the richness of life is found in adventure. . . . It develops self-reliance and independence. Life then teems with excitement. There is stagnation only in security.
I was the world in which I walked.
The English literary movement at the end of the 18th century was obviously due in great part, if not mainly, to the renewed practice of walking.
.... the brisk exercise imparts elasticity to the muscles, fresh and healthy blood circulates through the brain, the mind works well, the eye is clear, the step is firm, and a day's exertion always makes the evening's repose thoroughly enjoyable.
There is no orthodoxy in walking. It is a land of many paths and no-paths, where every one goes his own and is right.
We souls on foot, with foot-folk meet: For we that cannot hope to ride For ease or pride, have fellowship.
When one walks, one is brought into touch first of all with the essential relations between one's physical powers and the character of the country; one is compelled to see it as its natives do. Then every man one meets is an individual.
The best treatment for feet encased in shoes all day is to go barefoot. One-fifth of the world's population never wears shoes - ever! But when people who usually go barefoot usually wear shoes, their feet begin to suffer. As often as possible, walk barefoot on the beach, in your yard, or at least around the house. Walking in the grass or sand massages your feet, strengthens your muscles and feels very relaxing...If you can cut back on wearing shoes by 30 percent, you will save wear and tear on your feet and extend the life of your shoes.
I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything.
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