I come now, at this late juncture of my life, to this sudden realization. I have no destination, no real destination, in the literal sense. The destination, the place toward which my life is tending, is the journey itself and not the final stopping place. How I get there is more important than whether I arrive, although I will arrive, and what I must try to remember, now more than ever, is to listen to the wind, and the wind will tell me what to do. — First You Have To Row A Little Boat by Richard Bode.