Only the unknown frightens men. But once a man has faced the unknown that terror becomes the known.
Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.
He who would travel happily must travel light.
War is not an adventure. It is a disease. It is like typhus.
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For the born traveller, travelling is a besetting vice. Like other vices, it is imperious, demanding its victim’s time, money, energy and the sacrifice of comfort.
The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.
We are living in a culture entirely hypnotized by the illusion of time, in which the so-called present moment is felt as nothing but an infinitesimal hairline between an all-powerfully causative past and an absorbingly important future.