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.”

It is delightful to read on the spot the impressions and opinions of tourists who visited a hundred years ago, in the vehicles and with the aesthetic prejudices of the period, the places which you are visiting now. The voyage ceases to be a mere tour through space; you travel through time and thought as well.

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

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.

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.

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.

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

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

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

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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

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.

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.