Quotes
Quotes about Travel
When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels.
Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.
The traveled mind is the catholic mind educated from exclusiveness and egotism.
Traveling is no fool's errand to him who carries his eyes and itinerary along with him.
Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel.
Go far--too far you cannot, still the farther The more experience finds you: And go sparing;-- One meal a week will serve you, and one suit, Through all your travels; for you'll find it certain, The poorer and the baser you appear, The more you look through still.
He travels safest in the dark night who travels lightest.
I love to travel, But hate to arrive.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
A wise traveler never despises his own country. [It., Un viaggiatore prudente non disprezza mai il suo paese.]
As the Spanish proverb says, "He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him." So it is in traveling: a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.
The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.
Down to Gehenna or up to the throne, He travels the fastest who travel alone.
To get away from one's working environment is, in a sense, to get away from one's self; and this is often the chief advantage of travel and change.
A period of travel and relaxation when you take twice the clothes and half the money you need.
Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh be swift to live, make haste to be kind.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigor of the traveller.
