I am sure that instinctively we wish to be everything, to possess it-why cut the rose or marry the man, otherwise?

When the heart speaks, its language is the same under all latitudes.

The true traveller is the one urged to move about for physical, aesthetic, intellectual as well as spiritual reasons.

Shall we ever see the 10 million things of the universe simultaneously in order to be the all? I am convinced that to live is to travel towards the world's end.

Every time I took a long leave from home, I felt as if I were going to conquer the world. Or rather, take possession of what is my birthright, my inheritance.

Others are keen to see if natives other than us live better than we do, without heat in pipes, ice in boxes, sunshine in bulbs, music on disks, or images gliding over a pale screen.

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.