Walking on Water

Walking on Water by Richard Paul Evans

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


Just finish Book #5 in the Walk series a few days ago! Wow, what a great read! If you enjoy keeping caught up in a book, where you feel you are walking along with the character then you will love this series. Evans is a great author and I plan to read many more of his books. Already have purchased others and have some on my Amazon wish list. Most of the quotes below are from the quotes at the beginning of each chapter. Some will not make sense until you read the book. I know this book has made me want to take a walk across the country. Many interesting people “Alan” converses with along the way and learns much from their lives. Hope you enjoy some of the quotes.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive at where we started
And know the place for the first time. ~T. S. Eliot

It’s our memories that make us who we are. Without them, we’re nothing. If that means we have to hurt sometimes, it’s worth it.

Every life can be learned from, as either a flame of hope or a cautionary flare.

Sometimes our arms are so full with the burdens we carry that it hinders our view of the load those around us are staggering beneath.

As happy as I am to see Nicole again, we’re living in denial, ignoring the fact that the last time we saw each other I broke her heart. I wonder how long our fiction will last. It’s like repairing a leak with duct tape and wondering how long it will hold.

It is an inevitable and frightening moment in our lives – the day we realize our parents might be as flawed as we are.

The further along we get on our life journey the more we wonder about those who traveled before us and paved the road.

Wherever you are, wherever you go. I love you and I always will.

My father has more women, waiting outside his door than a Nordstrom’s before a sale. I wonder why he’s never been caught.

The doctor has informed me that what my father has suffered is sometimes called “the widow maker.” In my father’s case the term is irrelevant.

Over dinner Nicole asked about Falene, which spoiled my meal as effectively as if she had poured the entire shaker of salt on it.

The roots of a family tree are oftentimes more twisted than what we see above ground.

I now remember why I stopped playing chess with my father. I feel less like a sparring partner than a punching bag.

My father is wiser than I’ve ever dared give him credit for.

He lifted one of the bishops he’d taken from me. “The past makes a good bishop but a poor king.” What does that mean?” I said. “It means that it’s good to take counsel from the past but not to be ruled by it. Otherwise we end up using today to fight yesterday’s battles and miss tomorrow’s promise.”

It’s a shame that hearts don’t come with manual overrides.

It’s hard to believe that my mild-mannered accountant father was a warrior action figure.

Wandering through just one paragraph of my father’s history has changed Key West for me more than walking a few thousand miles.

What I read in my father’s book tonight was difficult. It was like watching a rerun of a show I hated the first time.

I suppose that to be a parent is to be misunderstood. Perhaps this is the greatest evidence of parental love.

It is the heroic spirits in flawed men of flesh – not the whitewashed, heroic-sized renditions society fabricates – that deserve our adulation.

The last line to my past has snapped. My father is gone.

While flailing about in an ocean of grief we must be mindful not to drown those trying to rescue us.

Déjà vu. Again. (I know that’s redundant. I suppose that’s my point.)

I have found Falene only to discover that I have less of an idea of where she is now than I had before.

Kailamai is back. Fortunately she brought her jokes with her.

Today I said goodbye to two people I love.

Two million steps forward, three million back.

When you’ve got nowhere to go, walk.

Having a place to go is a home.
Having someone to love is family.
Having both is a true blessing.

Faith is the bird that sings when the dawn is still dark ~Tagore

Usually the most interesting stories are written not on paper but hearts.

Perhaps the greatest mystery of death is why it’s a mystery.

Some people spend so much time hunting treasure that they fail to see it all around them. It’s like sifting through gold to find the silt.

What was true three thousand years ago is true today: the end of the siren’s song is death.

Humanity is always looking for the next great world, the next frontier. I wonder how different this world would be if we were content with where we were.

To deny our pasts is to burn the bridge we must cross to self-understanding.

I’ve wondered why the famous congregate with each other. Perhaps it’s to assure each other that they really are as important as they think they are.

It’s been said that every new beginning in some other beginning’s end.

Thoreau wrote, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” But on the road, desperation is not always so quiet.

Americans are much more American than they are Northerners, Southerners, Westerners, or Easterners … California Chinese, Boston Irish, Wisconsin German, yes, Alabama Negroes, have more in common than they have apart … The American identity is an exact and provable thing. ~John Steinbeck

I see people getting so caught up in celebrating diversity that they are neglecting their commonality. I don’t see this as a good thing. The Chinese culture has survived for more than five thousand years in part because the Chinese have embraced the same language and culture. I hope I am wrong about this, and that the flame is still on beneath the great American melting pot. Americans need each other, and a house divided, no matter the color of its occupants, is still divided. And divided we all fall.

If God came to save the world, why are so many of His professed followers intent on damning it?

I have entered the Florida Keys. If I listen carefully, I can hear the first musical strains of the movie credits beginning to roll.

Man has left footprints on the moon but still hasn’t walked on the ocean floor.

Today I crossed one of the longest bridges in the world – a fitting, though trite, metaphor for the completion of my walk.

Nicole and Kailamai have arrived in Key West. I realize that I have compartmentalized my life, as it’s peculiar having them here. It’s like daddy-daughter day at the office.

Things that seem bad at the time are really blessings.

Last night I had a dream that I reached Key West. I walked all the way to the southernmost point of the island. When I stepped into the water it was as hard as concrete. So I just kept on walking.

I dream of a day when a chicken can cross the road without having its motives questioned.

There are few precious moments in life that we can look up to the universe and say “it is done.” This is one such moment. My walk is over.

I made it to Key West. I have walked as far as I could. I have reached the end of my journey only to realize that it is just the beginning.

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