Quotes About Wanderlust

Where are we going? I asked him. I don't know, he said. Just driving. But this road does not go anywhere, I told him. That doesn't matter. What does? I asked, after a little while. Just that we're on it, dude, he said.

When I was a girl, the only thing I wanted to do was write books that would take me around the world. I guess when the place where you are doesn't feel like home, you always want to be somewhere else.

A trip to the market in the morning to buy bread, an afternoon spent reading in a cafe—nothing was routine; a strange place helped you find the poetry in everyday life.

I'm everyone everywhere with you without you unbound set free in limbo lost at sea.

I can't wait to get out of the house. I can't wait to get out of here. I've been telling myself this all week. The 'getting out of here' part is unspecified, though. Maybe I simply want to get away from life

Even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven't forgotten. The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.

I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â To the ancient Greeks and Romans, the known world comprised

For all its material advantages, the sedentary life has left us edgy, unfulfilled. Even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven't forgotten. The open road still softly calls, like a nearly forgotten song of childhood. We invest far-off places with a certain romance. This appeal, I suspect, has been meticulously crafted by natural selection as an essential element in our survival.

And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is romance and big things and real dreams that never go smash.

You haven't really been anywhere until you've got back home.

Sometimes I think a man could wander across the disc all his life and not see everything there is to see,' said Twoflower. 'And now it seems there are lots of other worlds as well. When I think I might die without seeing a hundredth of all there is to see it makes me feel,' he paused, then added, 'well, humble, I suppose. And very angry, of course.

Come on. Let's run away. Where to? Rincewind sighed. He'd tried to make his basic philosophy clear time and again, and people never got the message. Don't you worry about to, he said. In my experience that always takes care of itself. The important word is away.

Ha volna idÅ'm és merészelnék ennyire eltérni a tárgytól, írnék egy külön fejezetet az elsÅ' kancsó sörrÅ'l, amelyet angol földön iszik meg az ember. Ó, milyen jól esik! Érdemes elmenni egy esztendÅ're hazulról, csak azért, hogy ezt az elsÅ' kortyot élvezzük.

She had wandered the streets of Vienna and Budapest. No wonder she felt different. Perhaps travel did that to you. Mary had come home, but she was not the same Mary who had left—not quite.

My earliest thought, long before I was in high school, was just to go away, get out of my house, get out of my city. I went to Medford High School, but even in grade school and junior high, I fantasized about leaving.

I didn't have just one place where I could say, 'That's my home.'

There's just something hypnotic about maps.

I don't want to turn 50 and say, 'Gosh, I wish I'd lived in that part of the world for a time. I wish I'd read that book by Faulkner.' I want time to delve back into Thoreau and Kafka.

I like my small camper. I just do not want to return to a fixed home. I cannot stand being in one place. I must keep moving.

I've never really thought about settling down anywhere. I like to keep moving.

I have lots of girlfriends - all over the country! You think I'm kidding? I'm dead serious. Girlfriends everywhere.

When I rode the train west, I went looking for something, but I didn't see anything wonderful. I didn't see anything better than what I already had. Home.

There is a kind of magicness about going far away and then coming back all changed.

For the next thirteen-plus hours, I stared out the window at the passing towns and countryside. All those lives. All those untold stories and private dramas. There was something so beautiful and sad about it. I felt weirdly emotional, like I was running away from home, but also running to a new home.