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

After midnight the moon set and I was alone with the stars. I have often said that the lure of flying is the lure of beauty, and I need no other flight to convince me that the reason flyers fly, whether they know it or not, is the aesthetic appeal of flying.

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

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

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

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their distance from each other and attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly return so.

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

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

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

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.