C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Travel
Travel is fatal to prejudice.
Travel to learn character.
To see the world is to judge the judges.
Long traveled in the ways of men.
Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
Never travel by sea when you can go by land.
Traveling is a fool’s paradise.
Travelers must be content.
Travel teaches toleration.
I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba and cry, “’Tis all barren!”
Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his wandering.
Traveling is no fool’s errand to him who carries his eyes and itinerary along with him.
He who never leaves his country is full of prejudices.
When I was at home, I was in a better place; but travelers must be content.
He travels safest in the dark night who travels lightest.
The traveled mind is the catholic mind educated from exclusiveness and egotism.
The value of life deepens incalculably with the privileges of travel.
To roam giddily, and be everywhere but at home, such freedom doth a banishment become.
Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see, my heart, untraveled, fondly turns to thee.
Nothing tends so much to enlarge the mind as traveling.
Usually speaking, the worst-bred person in company is a young traveler just returned from abroad.
A pilgrimage is an admirable remedy for over-fastidiousness and sickly refinement.
People travel to learn; most of them before they start should learn to travel.
Ancient travelers guessed; modern travelers measure.
A traveler without observation is a bird without wings.
The dust is old upon my “sandal-shoon” and still I am a pilgrim.
The world is a great book, of which they that never stir from home read only a page.
Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.
He travels safe, and not unpleasantly, who is guarded by poverty and guided by love.
He that would travel for the entertainment of others should remember that the great object of remark is human life.
Ay, now am I in Arden: the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place; but travellers must be content.
I always love to begin a journey on Sundays, because I shall have the prayers of the church to preserve all that travel by land or by water.
***the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
Travel makes all men countrymen, makes people noblemen and kings, every man tasting of liberty and dominion.
Rather see the wonders of the world abroad, than, living dully sluggardized at home, wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.
He that travels into a country before he has some entrance into the language, goeth to school and not to travel.
Travelers find virtue in a seeming minority in all other countries, and forget that they have left it in a minority at home.
The useful science of the world to know, which books can never teach, nor pedants show.
Know most of the rooms of thy native country before thou goest over the threshold thereof.
Travel gives a character of experience to our knowledge, and brings the figures upon the tablet of memory into strong relief.
Railway traveling is not traveling at all; it is merely being sent to a place, and very little different from becoming a parcel.
The proper means of increasing the love we bear our native country is to reside some time in a foreign one.
Only that traveling is good which reveals to me the value of home, and enables me to enjoy it better.
They, and they only, advantage themselves by travel, who, well fraught with the experience of what their own country affords, carry ever with them large and thriving talents.
I used to wonder how a man of birth and spirit could endure to be wholly insignificant and obscure in a foreign country, when he might live with lustre in his own.
The bee, though it finds every rose has a thorn, comes back loaded with honey from his rambles; and why should not other tourists do the same?
Men may change their climate, but they cannot change their nature. A man that goes out a fool cannot ride or sail himself into common sense.
We love old travelers: we love to hear them prate, drivel and lie; we love them for their asinine vanity, their ability to bore, their luxuriant fertility of imagination, their startling, brilliant, overwhelming mendacity.
With every step of the recent traveler our inheritance of the wonderful is diminished. Those beautiful pictured notes of the possible are redeemed at a ruinous discount in the hard coin of the actual.
As the Spanish proverb says, “He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him,” so it is in traveling; a man must carry knowledge with him if he would bring home knowledge.
To be a good traveler argues one no ordinary philosopher. A sweet landscape must sometimes be allowed to atone for an indifferent supper, and an interesting ruin charm away the remembrance of a hard bed.
They change their sky not their mind who cross the sea. A busy idleness possesses us: we seek a happy life, with ships and carriages: the object of our search is present with us.
There is probably no country so barbarous that would not disclose all it knew, if it received equivalent information; and I am apt to think that a person who was ready to give more knowledge than he received would be welcome wherever he came.
Those who visit foreign nations, but who associate only with their own countrymen, change their climate, but not their customs; they see new meridians, but the same men; and with heads as empty as their pockets, return home with traveled bodies, but untraveled minds.
Perigrination charms our senses such unspeakable and sweet variety that some count him that never traveled—a kind of prisoner, and pity his case: that, from his cradle to his old age, he beholds the same still, still,—still, the same, the same.
There are two things necessary for a traveler to bring him to the end of his journey—a knowledge of his way, a perseverance in his walk. If he walk in a wrong way, the faster he goes the farther he is from home; if he sit still in the right way, he may know his home, but never come to it: discreet stays make speedy journeys. I will first then know my way, ere I begin my walk; the knowledge of my way is a good part of my journey.