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A ticket out is often a ticket in—to something deeper.
Travel teaches silence louder than any language.
No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.
The horizon is not an end—it’s an invitation.
Music, once admitted to the soul, becomes a sort of spirit, and never dies. ― Edward Bulwer Lytton
You never return the same person who left—you always come back with echoes.
Airports hold more tears and hopes than any church.
Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.
Taking a moment to savor the delicious local cuisine. Every journey is a tastebud adventure.
Every border crossed removes one from your mind.