There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

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

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

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.

Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will—whatever we may think.

It is delightful to read on the spot the impressions and opinions of tourists who visited a hundred years ago, in the vehicles and with the aesthetic prejudices of the period, the places which you are visiting now. The voyage ceases to be a mere tour through space; you travel through time and thought as well.

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

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.”

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.

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

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.

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