Quotes About Wanderlust

His theatre was the clouds, where no spectacle repeated itself. On land he was a foreigner. Land for him was stasis, and it pulled him into immobility, which was his image of death." —

Viaggiamo per cercare altri luoghi, altre vite,m altre anime.

Why has she loved ships so deeply, why has she always wanted to sail away from this world? Why has she always dreamed of flight, of departure?

I will never settle down, never have a home. My symbol is a roving ship. I am a writer. I would rather have been a courtesan. the rest is in the diary

I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again

Will it be here that we shall find a place which will not elude us, or which if it remains does not exert on us a culpable attraction? Or must we, leaning over the deck and watching the shores glide by, move forever onward?

Partons! et ne nous arrêtons que n'importe où!...

Je pars simplement pour partir, la surprise même est mon but - l'imprevu - Comprennez-vous?

Every person who can, even at a sacrifice, make the voyage around the world should do so. All other travel compared to it seems incomplete, gives us merely vague impressions of parts of the whole.

Then I traveled. Quite a bit, in fact. You have to stockpile a few beautiful vistas in your memory, Pearlie. In case we're rationed again.

It's like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee, and drinks, and a good steak. And then you have to leave. And you won't ever be back.

It's like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee, and drinks, and a good steak. And then you have to leave. And you won't ever be back.

Yes! It's like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee, and drinks, and a good steak. And then you have to leave. And you won't ever be back.

Where ever I am I always find myself looking out the window wishing I was somewhere else.

I used to think I was unstable, because I had this thirst for something. I could never figure out what it was. I couldn't sleep at night, and I always wanted to be somewhere else. I have a window tattooed, this little box, and it's because wherever I was, I wanted to be somewhere else. And, I always saw myself, wherever I was in life, staring out the window.

He had eyes only for California.

her backpack

And I'll dream about living there one day myself, about boats and bicycles and water, and a dog running next to me on the road, in the green, green afternoon light.

Meanwhile, Morris settled into his seat with his signature slouch, neither knowing nor caring where I was taking him. Like destinations, in general, were vastly overrated. And maybe they were. As long as you were moving, you were always going somewhere.

For me, however, it was a mix of the two, this constant push and pull. I loved it here. But I'd been in that circle and star for my entire life, and I so wanted to know what it would feel like to claim another distant spot as my own, if only for a little while. Someday.

Enough! There are moments, Wilhelm, when I could rise up and shake it all off, and when, if I only knew where to go, I could fly from this place.

I have often reflected, dear Wilhelm, on the eagerness of men to wander about and make new discoveries, and on that secret urge which afterwards makes them return to their narrow circle, conform to the customary path, and pay no attention to the right or the left.

After you've lived in Paris for a while, you don't want to live anywhere, including Paris.

Earth seemed a place of exile and I dreamt of heaven.