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

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.

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

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

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

All traveling becomes dull in exact proportion to its rapidity.

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

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.

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

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.”

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

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

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