The very fact that a Frenchman was prepared, after two minutes of conversation, to be so friendly towards anyone, especially one who had come from England, made me restless.

A man who embarks on a journey must know when to end it.

There can be few situations more fearful than breaking down in darkness on the highway leading to Casablanca. I have rarely felt quite so vulnerable or alone.

The desert was bad, but nothing could compare with the horrors of a tropical rain forest.

There's nothing like a pack of mules to give one a sense of entourage.

A journey, I reflected, is of no merit unless it has tested you.

One senses that, in these conditions, no amount of wet-wiping could bring true hygiene.