A weird time in which we are alive. We can travel anywhere we want, even to other planets. And for what? To sit day after day, declining in morale and hope. Falling into an interminable ennui. And meanwhile, the others are busy. They are not sitting helplessly waiting.
We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.
The goal to be reached is the mind’s insight into what knowing is. Impatience asks for the impossible, wants to reach the goal without the means of getting there. The length of the journey has to be borne with, for every moment is necessary.
Travelling, whether in the mental or the physical world, is a joy, and it is good to know that, in the mental world at least, there are vast countries still very imperfectly explored.
Travel is never a matter of money but of courage.
The man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait till that other is ready.
People commonly travel the world over to see rivers and mountains, new stars, garish birds, freak fish, grotesque breeds of human; they fall into an animal stupor that gapes at existence and they think they have seen something.
Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.
Love is a voyage too, a voyage with no destination except death, but a voyage of bliss.
Love is a journey through waters and stars.
Journeys end in lovers meeting.
In this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers.
