I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. 

Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. 

Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance. 

The cloud clears as you enter it. 

I have learned this, but like everyone, I learned it late.

- Beryl Markham -