Quotes About Wanderlust

There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.

Having adventures comes natural to some people, said Anne serenely. You just have a gift for them or you haven't.

She had always envied the wind. So free. Blowing where it listed. Through the hills. Over the lakes. What a tang, what a zip it had! What a magic of adventure!

But she had long ago learned that when she wandered into the realm of fancy she must go alone. The way to it was by an enchanted path where not even her dearest might follow her.

Charlotte had never forgotten it - she was always looking for it. An old house facing seaward, ships going up and down. Spruce woods and musty hills, cold salt air from the water, rest, quiet, silence.

Having adventures comes naturally to some people. You just have a gift for them or you don't have - Anne Shirley

But Cecily's maiden feet were never to leave the golden road.

I never see a ship sailing out of the channel, or a gull soaring over the sand-bar, without wishing I were on board the ship or had wings, not like a dove 'to fly away and be at rest,' but like a gull, to sweep out into the very heart of the storm.

He began to speak dreamily, partly because he wanted to thrill his companions a little, partly because something apart from him seemed to be speaking through his lips. The Piper is coming nearer, he said, he is nearer than he was that evening I saw him before. His long, shadowy cloak is blowing around him. He pipes—he pipes—and we must follow—Jem and Carl and Jerry and I—round and

He pipes—he pipes—and we must follow—Jem and Carl and Jerry and I—round and round the world. Listen— listen—can't you hear his wild music? The girls shivered.

Let the Piper come and welcome, he cried, waving his hand. I'LL follow him gladly round and round the world.

I'm in the mood to travel. Once you boys get settled I may go to China, for all you know.

why people travel far from home-far from where they started. There was, of course, the obvious reason:escape. Escape from the monotony of every day. SO many of us chasing what we wished our everyday existence could be instead. But there was a less obvious and perhaps more important reason. Somewhere, often right in the middle of a trip, you got to believe this was your everyday life. You got to believe you were never going home again.

The wings and the golden weather and the tang of frost in the mornings made Laura want to go somewhere. She did not know where. She wanted only to go.

It doesn't matter where I go, I don't want to be there. And then I get to the next place, and I don't want to be there either.

Have you lost your way? Don't be sad; be happy, because you will see new places, places that you have never been to! It is magical to lose the way!

I leave, and the leaving is so exhilarating I know I can never go back. But then what? Do I just keep leaving places, and leaving them, and leaving them, tramping a perpetual journey?

The Magical Negro rested his red cane on his shoulder and leisurely strolled into the forest to see if he could find him some hobbits, castles, dragons, princesses, and all that other shit.

Odysseus is always slipping out, the man who has been everywhere, seen everything, done everything

The destination was not really the point. The true desire was to get away—to go, as he concluded, 'anywhere! anywhere! so long as it is out of the world!

If we find poetry in the service station and motel, if we are drawn to the airport or train carriage, it is perhaps because, in spite of their architectural compromises and discomforts, in spite of their garish colours and harsh lighting, we implicitly feel that these isolated places offer us a material setting for an alternative to the selfish ease, the habits and confinement of the ordinary, rooted world.

The study of maps and the perusal of travel books aroused in me a secret fascination that was at times almost irresistible.

And insofar as we travel in search of beauty, works of art may in small ways start to influence where we would like to travel to.

Back to Jak— Why does everyone always want to go back to Jakku? There's nothing there! Sand and junk and rocks and sand and quicksand and sand—I don't get it!