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.

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.

I think that to get under the surface and really appreciate the beauty of any country, one has to go there poor.

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

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

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

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

There ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.

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.”

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.