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

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

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

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.

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.

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.”

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

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

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 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.”

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

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

Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death.