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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.”

According to the law of custom, and perhaps of reason, foreign travel completes the education of an English gentleman.

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

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.

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

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

Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will—whatever we may think.