It isn't down in any map; true places never are.

No man's land. There ain't no asylum here.
King Solomon he never lived 'round here.

The profoundest distances are never geographical.

Nobody worth a damn could ever come from such a place. It was nothing, like most places and people are nothing.

I never saw Portsmouth by day.

This place ought never to have been dug up.

Strictly speaking, the land does not exist; it is merely dehydrated sea.

As far as the official mapmakers were concerned Three Pines didn’t exist. It had never been surveyed. Never plotted. No GPS or sat nav system, no matter how sophisticated, would ever find the little village. It only appeared as though by accident over the edge of the hill. Suddenly. It could not be found unless you were lost.

They who see the Flying Dutchman never, never reach the shore.

The map of reality is not reality.

Truth is a pathless land.

No man and no people live as an island unto themselves.

They do not live in the world,
Are not in time and space.
From birth to death hurled
No word do they have, not one
To plant a foot upon,
Were never in any place.

Down there we know, the streets we know, but up here? Nobody's been here.