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

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

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

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.”

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

I am leaving the town to the invaders: increasingly numerous, mediocre, dirty, badly behaved, shameless tourists.

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.