Quotes about Travel

When I worked in Asia for a long time, I just felt like I needed a break.

Together, we travel the living river. We turn our faces to the sunlight and fly time and time again home to Kingdom Arcadia.

Beyond the Alps lies Italy.

An ordinary man away from home giving advice.

I go to Washington, D.C., to work and come home at every opportunity.

The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.

I love the story of the salesman who sat looking through the window of a hotel restaurant. Outside raged a blinding snowstorm. "Do you think the roads will be clear enough in the morning to travel?" he asked his waiter. "That depends," the waiter replied. "Are you on salary or commission?

We continue to build temples. We desire that as many members as possible have an opportunity to attend the temple without having to travel inordinate distances.

Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our destiny.

This life of supreme blessedness is an end, and the pilgrim who is striving towards it, the prodigal returning to it, must travel thither, and employ means to get there. He must pass through the country of his animal desires, disentangling himself from their intricacies, simplifying them, overcoming them; this is the way, and he has no enemies but what spring within himself.

It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it, at this time of the year; just, the worst time of the year, to take a journey, and specially a long journey, in. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off in solstitio brumali, the very dead of Winter.

Last we consider the time of their coming, the season of the year. It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it at this time of the year, just the worst time of the year to take a journey, and specially a long journey. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off, in solsitio brumali, 'the very dead of winter