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

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

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.

People commonly travel the world over to see rivers and mountains, new stars, garish birds, freak fish, grotesque breeds of human; they fall into an animal stupor that gapes at existence, and they think they have seen something.

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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