Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

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

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.

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

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

A traveler’s chief aim should be to make men wiser and better, and to improve their minds by the bad—as well as good—example of what they deliver concerning foreign places.

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.

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

Traveling is like gambling: it is ever connected with winning and losing, and generally where least expected we receive more or less than we hoped for.

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

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.”

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