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.

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.

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

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

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.”

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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