Linda Howe Steiger
Writing a poem is like
 dropping a rose petal
down the Grand Canyon
and waiting for the echo.
--Don Marquis
  • Mysteries
    • An Author Interview
  • Memoir
    • How to write your memoir >
      • 1 Scenes from your Life
      • 2 The Notebook >
        • Memory Bank Headings
        • Notebook Categories
      • 3 The timeline
      • 4 Floor plans
      • 5 Lists
      • 6 The Story Behind that Photo
    • Stepfather
    • Memoir Quotes
  • Travel Photos
    • Cambodia & Vietnam
    • Paris
    • Aussie travels 2017
    • Spain 2017 >
      • Spain slideshow
    • American Road Trip
    • Back to the Future: Ohio, PA, and NJ
    • New York City
    • Colorado Plateau
    • Pacific Northwest
    • Turkish Discovery
    • Return to Turkey
    • Ireland
    • Netherlands
    • Russia: Moscow to Petersburg
    • Italy at Last
  • About
    • Contact Me

Mark Twain said it best

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
- Innocents Abroad

...although Sir Tennyson deserves a say as well

 - lines from Ulysses

   There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me--
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads--you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Copyright by Linda Howe Steiger 2012-2013, all rights reserved