All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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 soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty, to think, feel, do just as one pleases. We go on a journey chiefly to be free of all impediments and of all inconveniences—to leave ourselves behind, much more to get rid of others.

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

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

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.