Egia da, egun, ibiltariok ere gurutzatu beldurtiak besterik ez gara, zeregin amaiezinetan pertseberatzeke engaiatzen garenak. Gure ibilaldiak tour-ak baino ez dira, zeinetatik iluntzerako atzera bueltan baikara gure sutondoan. Egiten dugun bidearen erdia itzultzea baino ez da. Agian, biderik laburrena hartu, eta, betiko abentura baten izpirituaz, sekula ez itzultzekotan irten behar genuke –gure erresuma ilunotara geure bihotz baltsamatuak erlikia gisa soilik igortzeko prest–. Gertu bazaude zure gurasoak, senideak, ezkontidea, seme-alabak eta lagunak uzteko, eta ostera berriz ez ikusteko –zeure zorrak kitatu, testamentua egin eta konpromisoak bete badituzu, eta gizaki askea baldin bazara–, orduan prest zaude partitzeko.

It is true, we are but faint-hearted crusaders, even the walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side from which we set out.  Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return,— prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again,—if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man, then you are ready for a walk.

Walking. Henry D. Thoreau,
in The Atlantic Monthly, 9, 56 (1862).