There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

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

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.”

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

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

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