There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

In the Middle Ages people were tourists because of their religion, whereas now they are tourists because tourism is their religion.

See one promontory (said Socrates of old), one mountain, one sea, one river, and see all.

According to the law of custom, and perhaps of reason, foreign travel completes the education of an English gentleman.

Travelers, poets, and liars are three words all of one significance.

Thanks to the interstate highway system, it is now possible to travel from coast to coast without seeing anything.

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

I am leaving the town to the invaders: increasingly numerous, mediocre, dirty, badly behaved, shameless tourists.

After midnight the moon set and I was alone with the stars. I have often said that the lure of flying is the lure of beauty, and I need no other flight to convince me that the reason flyers fly, whether they know it or not, is the aesthetic appeal of flying.

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

If I had no duties, and no reference to futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman.

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