Quotes About Wanderlust

I'm an adaptable nomad. I love Paris, I've been living in Los Angeles and New York since 1990. I love London, too. My roots are inside of me.

Take me with you. I want a doomed love. I want streets at night, wind and rain, no one wondering where I am.

We were as Hansel and Gretel and we ventured out into the black forest of the world.

Indeed, the most vivid travel experiences usually find you by accident, and the qualities that will make you fall in love with a place are rarely the features that took you there.

Why do people so love to wander? I think the civilized parts of the World will suffice for me in the future.

I love everything about motels. I can't help myself. I still get excited every time I slip a key into a motel room door and fling it open.

Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free.

I dont know what it is about the open road that makes it so appealing. Maybe its because when youre headed somewhere, you dont have to be where youve already been.

Of course I should love to throw a toothbrush into a bag, and just go, quite vaguely, without any plans or even a real destination. It is the Wanderlust.

Demora-se entre as nuvens, preguiçosa, abre a custo os olhos sobre o campo, ai que vontade de dormir até não ter mais sono!

Finalmente ia transpor o duro tempo, a negra noite, o deserto de luto e solidão: outra vez em cavalgada partiria a vadiar.

Daydream is the only good thing in life. Everything else is vulgar and empty.

Les grands voyages ont ceci de merveilleux que leur enchantement commence avant le départ même. On ouvre les atlas, on rêve sur les cartes. On répète les noms magnifiques des villes inconnues.

Move again—follow the sun even farther than before?

There are too many confusing things present. Things I know. Thoughts I have. Sarcasm. Things I think I ought to be doing and places I ought to be going. Always other places.

trær er noe av det fineste jeg vet. vann og trær og jenter. jeg pleide å klatre hele dagene. og ofte satt jeg bare stille, øverst i et tre. i flere timer. når løvverket var tett om sommeren, kunne ingen se meg. jeg kunne se alle, men ingen kunne se meg. jeg følte at jeg var langt borte. og når jeg klatret ned, var det litt som å komme hjem etter en lang reise

Getting outside is highly overrated.

There we understood that our vocation, our true vocation, was to move for eternity along the roads and seas of the world. Always curious, looking into everything that came before our eyes, sniffing out each corner but only ever faintly — not setting down roots in any land or staying long enough to see the substratum of things; the outer limits would suffice.

They moved with the insouciance of those that have nothing to do, two aimless characters in search of a story that would deign to have them, but not in a hurry to commit to any particular type of narrative.

Baltimore always seems like the kind of city you either leaving or just returning to. Ain't no kinda place to hang your hat. Even as a kid I dreamed of getting out.

The world is full of marvels, if you're willing to travel far enough to see them.

In the green escape of my palace, over a bridge, under a canopy of opalescent light, through there, between dark branches and their shivering leaves, I'm lost in the scent of yellow roses, arrested by the range's filtering light.

Io sono abituato a cibarmi di nuvole e lontananza

Buy an atlas and keep it by the bed - remember you can go anywhere.