For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.

Travel is like adultery: one is always tempted to be unfaithful to one’s own country. To have imagination is inevitably to be dissatisfied with where you live.

Traveling is the ruin of all happiness! There’s no looking at a building here after seeing Italy.

There ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.

The traveler with nothing on him sings in the robber’s face.

When a traveler returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath traveled altogether behind him.

The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him. He goes “sightseeing.”

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

One should always have one’s boots on and be ready to leave.

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their distance from each other and attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly return so.

I think that to get under the surface and really appreciate the beauty of any country, one has to go there poor.

Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, “I would stay here and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.”