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.

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

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do just as one pleases. We go on a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences—to leave ourselves behind, much more to get rid of others.

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

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

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.

More and more I like to take a train. I understand why the French prefer it to automobiling—it is so much more sociable, and of course these days so much more of an adventure, and the irregularity of its regularity is fascinating.

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.”

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.

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

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

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.