There's magic in the water that draws all men away form the land, that leads them over hills, down creeks and streams and rivers to the sea.

Traveling takes the ink out of one's pen as well as the cash out of one's purse.

Honor lies in the mane of a horse.

I would prefer not to.

...in certain moods, no man can weigh this world without throwing in something, somehow like Original Sin, to strike the uneven balance.

I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas.

Because no man can ever feel his own identity aright except his eyes be closed; as if darkness were indeed the proper element of our essences, though light be more congenial to our clayey part.