All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

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

For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.”

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

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

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.

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.