In a Ramada Inn near the grapevine, they stop to rest for the night. Traveling down south, looking for good times. Visiting old friends feels right.
It takes some skill to spoil a breakfast - even the English can't do it.
Everyone is a Wordsworth in certain moods, and every traveler seeks out places that every traveler has missed.
For me, a journey to Damascus is an amazing hunt from beginning to end, a slice through layers of history in search of treasure.
I never count countries. Travel is not a contest.
What an absurdity to go and bury oneself in South America, where they are always having revolutions.
It had been agreed between them that lighted candles at wayside inns, in strange countries amid mountain scenery, gave the evening meal a peculiar poetry.
LeRoy says there's something you should know, not everybody has a place to go. And home is just a place to hang your head, and dream of things to do in Denver when you're dead.
Writing is an affair of yearning for great voyages and hauling on frayed ropes.
I've walked these streets, in a carnival of sights to see. All the cheap thrill seekers, the vendors & the dealers, they crowded around me. Have I been blind? Have I been lost, inside myself and my own mind? Hypnotized, mesmerized, by what my eyes have seen? I've walked these streets, in a spectacle of wealth & poverty. In the diamond market, the scarlet welcome carpet that they just rolled out for me.
Sittin' here resting my bones, this loneliness won't leave me alone. Two thousand miles I roam, just to make this dock my home. I'm just gon' sit at the dock of the bay, watching the tide roll away. Sittin' on the dock of the bay, wastin' time.
Well there's floodin' down in Texas. All of the telephone lines are down. Well, I've been tryin' to call my baby, Lord, and I can't get a single sound.
In the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent.
Where does one go in a tremendous city like Calcutta to find insider information? I recalled India's golden rule: do the opposite of what would be normal anywhere else.
Our conversation with the supermarket manager had been about as helpful as a New Jersey road sign, and if you've ever been there, you know the signs don't tell you the exit you're coming up to, they only point out the exits you've just missed.
What gives value to travel is fear. It breaks down a kind of inner structure we all have.
One senses that, in these conditions, no amount of wet-wiping could bring true hygiene.
I wish she'd said something different, but patriarchy is as prevalent around the world as racism and xenophobia are. We can't hide from it, not even here.
It's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace, and a wound that will never heal. No prima donna, the perfume is on an old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey. Goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers and goodnight, Matilda, too.
From the moment you decide to go somewhere, until the time you return, there are about 47 different points of abuse that are awaiting you.
It's very far away, it takes about a half and a day to get there, if we travel by my... dragon-fly. No, it's not in Spain, but all the same, you know, it's a groovy name. And the wind's just right... Hang on, my darling, hang on if you wanna go. Hear it's a really groovy place, with just a little bit Spanish Castle Magic.
Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass, and I'm home bound. Staring blankly ahead, just making my way, making a way, through the crowd. And I need you, and I miss you, and now I wonder... If I could fall, into the sky. do you think time, would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles, if I could, just see you tonight.
You see, she was gonna be an actress and I was gonna learn to fly. She took off to find the footlights, and I took off for the sky. And here, she's acting happy, inside her handsome home. And me, I'm flying in my taxi, taking tips, and getting stoned. I go flying so high, when I'm stoned.
The Sierra, a region so quiet and pristine that we have the sense of being the first human beings ever to set foot in it. We fall silent ourselves in its midst, as if conversation in a place of such primeval solitude would be like talking in church.
People going from Southern Italy to the North say that they feel cold not only for the different climate, but for the less "warm" approach in relationships.
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