There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.

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.”

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

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.

People commonly travel the world over to see rivers and mountains, new stars, garish birds, freak fish, grotesque breeds of human; they fall into an animal stupor that gapes at existence, and they think they have seen something.

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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

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

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

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

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

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