“We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel ...”

“Writing is, in the end, that oddest of anomalies: an intimate letter to a stranger.”

“One of the strange laws of the contemplative life," Thomas Merton, one of its sovereign explorers, pointed out, "is that in it you do not sit down and solve problems: you bear with them until they ...”

“... a man sitting still is alone, often, with the memory of all he doesn't have. And what he does have can look very much like nothing.”

“Serendipity was my tour guide, assisted by caprice”

“And if travel is like love, it is, in the end, mostly because its a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, in dimmed by familiarity and ready to be transformed. That is ...”

“For the two of us, home isn't a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”

“The vast and beautiful world is the home we share together.”

“I stood there a long while, staring at that tree. It looked so strongSo beautiful. Hurt right down the middleBut alive and well. Cee touched my shoulderLightly. Frank? Yes? Come on, brother. Let's ...”

“I was a woman and did not yet think of myself as a writer. I was a mapmaker.”

“I am fevered with the sunset I am fretful with the bay For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay.”

“As the Spanish proverb says "He who would bring home the wealth of the Indies must carry the wealth of the Indies with him." So it is in traveling: a man must carry knowledge with him if he would...”