In Paris they simply stared when I spoke to them in French; I never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.

There is no unhappiness like the misery of sighting land again after a cheerful, careless voyage.

Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be obtained by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.

I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.

Your road is everything that a road ought to be . . . and yet you will not stay in it half a mile, for the reason that little, seductive, mysterious roads are always branching out from it on either hand, and as these curve sharply also and hide what is beyond, you cannot resist the temptation to desert your own chosen road and explore them.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover