You do not travel if you are afraid of the unknown, you travel for the unknown, that reveals you with yourself.
It is always our own self that we find at the end of the journey. The sooner we face that self, the better.
We must develop a deeper interest and greater understanding of the people we meet here or abroad. Like us, they are passengers on board that mysterious ship called life.
When I look at something, it is certain that for an instant I am one with what I see.
The wideness of the horizon has to be inside us, cannot be anywhere but inside us, otherwise what we speak about is geographic distances.
One of the main points about travelling is to develop in us a feeling of solidarity, of that oneness without which no better world is possible.
The sooner we learn to be jointly responsible, the easier the sailing will be.
One travels so as to learn once more how to marvel at life in the way a child does. And blessed be the poet, the artist who knows how to keep alive his sense of wonder.
The benefits of the accomplished journey cannot be weighed in terms of perfect moments, but in terms of how this journey affects and changes our character.
I had to live in the desert before I could understand the full value of grass in a green ditch.
You can feel as brave as Columbus starting for the unknown the first time you enter a Chinese lane full of boys laughing at you, or when you risk climbing down in a Tibetan pub for a meal of rotten meat.
Only when one is able to grasp wideness can one possess it.
I am sure that instinctively we wish to be everything, to possess it-why cut the rose or marry the man, otherwise?
One travels to run away from routine, that dreadful routine that kills all imagination and all our capacity for enthusiasm.
There is only one valid species of voyage, which is walk towards the men.
The timelessness of a concept has to be woven into the running warp of dying time, vertical power has to be wedded to the horizontal earth.
I am convinced that to live is to travel towards the world's end.
Certain travelers give the impression that they keep moving because only then do they feel fully alive.
Travel can also be the spirit of adventure somewhat tamed, for those who desire to do something they are a bit afraid of.
I can see now that a concept or even a feeling makes no sense unless out of our substance we spin around it a web of references, of relationships, of values.
I refuse to imprison our acts in the rigid mould of sentences.
The state of minds vary according to the angle under which one examines them.
Humanity is made up of an infinity of different individuals. Each of us travels for motives exclusively his own.
That idea of escapism... these words could sum up my life.
Words are impotent to describe certain emotions.
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