During the first days of his new wandering life, in the first greedy whirl ained freedom, Goldmund had to relearn to live the homeless, timeless life of the traveler. Obedient to no man, depe only oher and season, without a goal before them or a roof above them, owning nothing, open to every whim of fate, the homeless wanderers lead their childlike, brave, shabby existehey are the sons of Adam, who was driven out of Paradise; the brothers of the animals, of innoce. Out of heavens hand they accept what is given them from moment to moment: sun, rain, fog, snow, warmth, cold, fort, and hardship; time does for them aher does history, or ambition, or that bizarre idol called progress and evolution, in which houseowners believe so desperately. A wayfarer may be delicate or crude, artful or awkward, brave or cowardly—he is always a child at heart, living in the first day of creation, before the beginning of the history of the world, his life always guided by……（内容加载失败！）
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