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.
The travelled mind is the catholic mind, educated out of exclusiveness and egotism.
The world is a great book, of which they who never stir from home read only a page.
Peregrinations charm our senses with such unspeakable and sweet variety, that some count him unhappy that never travelled—a kind of prisoner, and pity his case, that, from his cradle to his old age, he beholds the same, and still the same.
Those who visit foreign nations, but 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 travelled bodies, but untravelled minds.
It is not fit that every man should travel; it makes a wise man better, and a fool worse.
Know most of the rooms of thy native country before thou goest over the threshold thereof.
He who never leaves his own country is full of prejudices.
Some are found to travel with no other intent than that of understanding and collecting pictures, studying seals, and describing statues; on they travel from this cabinet of curiosities to that gallery of pictures; waste the prime of life in wonder; skilful in pictures; ignorant in men; yet impossible to be reclaimed, because their follies take shelter under the names of delicacy and taste.
Our object in travelling should be, not to gratify curiosity, and seek mere temporary amusement, but to learn, and to venerate, to improve the understanding and the heart.
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.
All travel has its advantages. If the traveller visits better countries, he may learn to improve his own; and if fortune carries him to worse, he may learn to enjoy his own.
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 travelling; a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.
The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.
To see the world is to judge the judges.
It is but to be able to say that they have been to such a place, or have sees such a thing, that, more than any real taste for it, induces the majority of the world to incur the trouble and fatigue of travelling.
One telling Socrates that such an one was nothing improved by his travels, "I very well believe it," said he, "for he took himself along with him."
There is nothing that a man can less afford to leave at home than his conscience or his good habits; for it is not to be denied that travel is, in its immediate circumstances, unfavorable to habits of self-discipline, regulation of thought, sobriety of conduct, and dignity of character. Indeed, one of the great lessons of travel is the discovery how much our virtues owe to the support of constant occupation, to the influence of public opinion, and to the force of habit; a discovery very dangerous, if it proceed from an actual yielding to temptations resisted at home, and not from a consciousness of increased power put forth in withstanding them.
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, and careful observation.
Railway travelling is not travelling at all; it is merely being sent to a place, and very little different from becoming a parcel.
A traveller without observation is a bird without wings.
Rather see the wonders of the world abroad than, living dully sluggardized at home, wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
The proper means of increasing the love we bear to our native country is to reside some time in a foreign one.
He travels safe, and not unpleasantly, who is guarded by poverty, and guided by love.
Travel is the frivolous part of serious lives, and the serious part of frivolous ones.
Usually speaking, the worst bred person in company is a young traveller just returned from abroad.
Only that travelling is good which reveals to me the value of home, and enables me to enjoy it better.
To be a good traveller argues one no ordinary philosopher.—A sweet landscape must sometimes atone for an indifferent supper, and an interesting ruin charm away the remembrance of a hard bed.
Travel gives a character of experience to our knowledge, and brings the figures on the tablet of memory into strong relief.
A pilgrimage is an admirable remedy for over-fastidiousness and sickly refinement.
Nothing tends so much to enlarge the mind as travelling, that is, making visits to other towns, cities, or countries beside those in which we were born and educated.
Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins.