People have all sorts of philosophical misdemeanours about traveling on wide unending roads. The way one path leads to another. And by the end of it, the traveller arrives: enriched and profoundly wise.
The journey may be alright but the heart drives one home.
Heard of the traveller who lost his heart on the way? He lost it to the path. So he was never home. Like a moth attracted only to the farthest candle, he never stopped fluttering.