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.”

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

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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