Quotes About Wanderlust

We can see every square metre of the planet on Google Earth. But there is no substitute for that sensory experience of going out into the world and discovering things for yourself.

I went through a phase when I was watching a lot of foreign films, just itching to get out of the suburbs and explore.

Whether you are seeking adventure, or adventure is seeking you. You will find adventure, or adventure will find you.

Not all those who wonder are lost.

The old wanderlust had gotten into his blood, the joy of the unbound life, the joy of seeking, of hoping without limit.

How long have I been walking? I don't remember any more, I can't count days or months. Is that the moon, the sun? I can't tell. The night star will sometimes light up the infinite fields of snow with an intensity like that of the sun, while the daytime star rises from the fog-shrouded horizon like a pale moon. The ice reflects the light like water does.

Toward an eternal aspiration for vague things.

And I shall watch the ferry boats, and they'll get high, On a bluer ocean against tomorrow's sky, And I will never grow so old again, And I will walk and talk, in gardens all wet with rain. - Sweet Thing

You do not need to fly to the other side of the planet to find wilderness and beauty.

Beauty is and always will be blue skies and open highway.

Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the necessity of 'creature comforts,' a sea-voyage would be delightful.

After the feet of beauty fly my own.

The beauty of reading is that it lets you travel in a way you could never know.

My best travelling experience lasted several years: between 1971 and 1974 when I bummed around the East. All I had with me was a cooking pot, a stove, a map and blankets and a couple of dhotis.

When you're a kid and you're in a classroom, anybody would die to be hanging out in London or having their sixteenth birthday in Japan.

I am sick of four walls and a ceiling I have need of the sky, I have business with the grass.

I'd rather drive the yellow brick road, you wouldn't happen to know of a rental car place around.

...after a certain quantity, photos apparently taken by chance, postcards chosen according to a passing mood, begin to trace an itinerary, to map the imaginary country that stretches out before us.

He had to keep moving. It didn't matter in which direction.

It was the kind of trip, sooner or later, you have to make. Especially if you are a motorcyclist and always looking for a good reason to travel. Or in my case even a fairly mediocre reason of practically no discernable consequence or socially redeeming value.

No more distractions. The elation of finally being alone was total. We walked straight west. I had everything I needed in the world resting comfortably on my shoulders, and the entire country waiting to be discovered.

Something piqued his curiosity and he wanted to know more. There was no order to it, neither in his mind nor in his filing system. He would plunge into a subject with cavalier disregard for its chronological development. And

What legendary travelers have taught us since Pausanius and Marco Polo is that the art of travel is the art of seeing what is sacred.

Loitering on Earth