Travelers, There Is No Path, Paths Are

There Is No One So Bound To His Own Face That He Does Not Cherish The Hope Of Presenting Another To The World.

Man's Passion For Truth Is Such That He Will Welcome The Bitterest Of All Postulates So Long As It Strikes Him As True.

Wanderer, Your Footsteps Are The Road, And Nothing More; Wanderer, There Is No Road, The Road Is Made By Walking. By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind One Sees The Path. . .

I. Don't Trace Out Your Profile-- Forget Your Side View-- All That Is Outer Stuff. Ii. Look For Your Other Half Who Walks Always Next To You And Tends To Be Who You Aren't.

What The Poet Is Searching For Is Not The Fundamental I But The Deep You.