I refuse to imprison our acts in the rigid mould of sentences.

One travels to run away from routine, that dreadful routine that kills all imagination and all our capacity for enthusiasm.

It is always our own self that we find at the end of the journey. The sooner we face that self, the better.

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 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.

Not only does travel give us a new system of reckoning, it also brings to the fore unknown aspects of our own self. Our consciousness being broadened and enriched, we shall judge ourselves more correctly.