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Enya

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My light shall be the moon
And my path, the ocean.
My guide, the morning star
As I sail home to you.
--
"Exile"

 
Enya

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I put down the oars and float endlessly as if to the eternal shore. Blue light of the moon shines on my sail. My boat is gliding to a secure haven. Only silent waves break against it. Deepest silence surrounds me and my soul builds a golden bridge to a star.

 
Joseph Goebbels
 

Courage, brother! do not stumble,
Though thy path be dark as night;
There’s a star to guide the humble,
Trust in God and do the Right.

 
Norman (1812-1872) MacLeod
 

So hoist up the John B. sail. See how the main sail sets. I'm full in my heart and my head and I want to go home, with a book in each hand, in the way I had planned. I feel so broke up, I want to go home.

 
Okkervil River
 

Every Warrior of the Light has suffered for the most trivial of reasons. Every Warrior of the Light has, at least once, believed he was not a Warrior of the Light.
Every Warrior of the Light has failed in his spiritual duties.
Every Warrior of the Light has said "yes" when he wanted to say "no."
Every Warrior of the Light has hurt someone he loved.
That is why he is a Warrior of the Light, because he has been through all this and yet has never lost hope of being better than he is.
Each stone, each bend cries welcome to him. He identifies with the mountains and the streams, he sees something of his own soul in the plants and the animals and the birds of the field.
Then, accepting the help of God and of God's signs, he allows his personal legend to guide him toward the tasks that life has reserved for him.
On some nights, he has nowhere to sleep, on others he suffers from insomnia. "That's just how it is," thinks the warrior. "I was the one who chose to walk this path."
In these words lies all his power: He chose the path along which he is walking and so has no complaints.

 
Paulo Coelho
 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
Star of the east the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

 
Reginald Heber
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