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.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

The traveler with nothing on him sings in the robber’s face.

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.”