A Quote by William Allingham

Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way! — © William Allingham
Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!
There was never a time when the world began, because it goes round and round like a circle, and there is no place on a circle where it begins. Look at my watch, which tells the time; it goes round, and so the world repeats itself again and again.
It's round the world I've traveled; it's round the world I've roamed; but I've yet to see an outlaw drive a family from its home
Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle. The sky is round, and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball, and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power whirls. Birds make their nest in circles... The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were.
When I was drawing this, I thought I’d put together Sailor Saturn and Sailor Chibi-Moon in a pair. Then I followed it with the Sailor Quartet. One of these days I’m going to put this team together into the manga. What a weird thing that would be. Anyway, here’s the six.
Life had a way of wrecking her careful plans, again and again. Roulette was more predictable than life. Small wonder she was so lucky at it.Life was not a wheel going round and round. It never, ever returned to the same place. It didn't stick to simple red and black and a certain array of numbers. It laughed at logic.Beneath its pretty overdress of man-imposed order, life was anarchy.
And finally I twist my heart round again, so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside, and keep on trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be, and could be, if there weren't any other people living in the world.
Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.
Oh, to be home again, home again, home again! Under the apple-boughs, down by the mill!
The longest way round is the shortest way home. (Quoting Alexander MacLaren, The Wearied Christ and Other Sermons)
The longest way round is the shortest way home
I used to analyze myself down to the last thread, used to compare myself with others, recalled all the smallest glances, smiles and words of those to whom I’d tried to be frank, interpreted everything in a bad light, laughed viciously at my attempts ‘to be like the rest’ –and suddenly, in the midst of my laughing, I’d give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again – in short, I went round and round like a squirrel on a wheel.
The sailor is frankness, the landsman is finesse. Life is not a game with the sailor, demanding the long head
I swear like a sailor, assuming the sailor in question died in 1800 and was really square.
Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I lay me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be: Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
The wheel goes round and round and comes back, and opportunities are given again. You just have to remember that.
It was a bold, wild life for a faerie - most never even left their forests - but she was a bold, wild lass, and so were her daughter and granddaughter after her, and their place in the world was everywhere and nowhere, like gypsies on wing. No home had they but their caravans and campfires, and no family but the one they'd cobbled together of crows, creatures and kindred souls they'd met on their endless journey round and round the world.
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