Best 44 quotes in «traveller quotes» category

The real traveller is the one who continues his journey even when the road ends!

I see myself as a bit of a traveller. I am a workaholic.

Travellers are just commuters with a wider perspective.

As long as you know in which station and at what hour you should wait, which train to take and if necessary when and where to get off that train to take a different line, to take a different train, you shall be accepted as a smart traveller!

Becoming unshakeable through this storm.

My homeland is not a suitcase, and I am no traveller

The skillful traveller leaves no traces of his wheels.

Bagiku, kepergian tak pernah menyimpan kehilangan, Rayina. Tak pernah ada. Kepergian hanya menyimpan langkah bersamanya. Dan, memang selalu begitu. Aku bukan peminat kehilangan.

Be a true traveller, don't be a temporary tourist.

Dare not to criticise self, lift yourself up and set the boundaries for your worth. Speak kindly to self and hand your worries over to the wind,if you are here; you are successful already, start believing in your story, the destination will be meaningless if the journeys never been truly lived

Every place you go becomes a part of you. But none more so than home.

Change your direction any moment, you realize you are on the wrong road.

Find something you love and go for it with all your heart. No excuses, no plan B. Never settle for anything less than you know you can do. It will be hard, but I promise it will be worth it.

Good luck' is like the shadow of a tree, for some time it gives comfort to a traveler but it doesn't go ahead with a traveler.

Here's another poem, like all others before and after, dedicated to you. There isn't anything left to be said but I will spend my life trying to put you into words. You who is every goodness, every optimism and hope. Your love is a better fate for me than anything I could wish for. If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part. And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination. But I’ve become a weary traveller, so please, let us never be apart.

I don't belong in this world, I am merely a traveller passing through, I repudiate to silence my thought, because they fear my light.

Hvad var iveien med Edevart? Hans hænder var store og stærke, hans sener i orden, men hans sind var splittet. Her seilte han væk tom og hjemløs, han var litt isenn blit fra intet sted, hvorhelst han flakket om drog han røtterne efter sig.

Engkau boleh saja membual tentang kaki telanjangmu Yang telah menempuh jutaan mil. Gaya kupu-kupu mu yang mengarungi laut penuh hiu, Atau kebolehanmu memanjat tebing-tebing terjal Dengan sepotong tali terikat di pinggangmu. Namun jika kau tak pernah menjelajah ke dalam batinmu sendiri, Engkau bagaikan tak pernah pergi ke mana pun.

I, sometimes, fear that probably I'll just keep changing cities, and may be someday I'll also travel the world, but never find another soul who thinks exactly the way I do.

I have rooted myself into this quiet place where I don’t need much to get by. I need my visions. I need my books. I need new thoughts and lessons, from older souls, bars, whisky, libraries; different ones in different towns. I need my music. I need my songs. I need the safety of somewhere to rest my head at night, when my eyes get heavy. And I need space. Lots of space. To run, and sing, and change around in any way I please—outer or inner—and I need to love. I need the space to love ideas and thoughts; creations and people—anywhere I can find—and I need the peace of mind to understand it.

In Damascus: the traveler sings to himself: I return from Syria neither alive nor dead but as clouds that ease the butterfly’s burden from my fugitive soul

I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.

Is there anybody there?" said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door.

Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.

. . . it's part of the adventure!

May find the right road to travel on.

There’s so much to explore rather to talk about religions.

The face of self-pity was universally understood.

There is a whole generation of young people just like us wandering around Europe and the rest of the world, trying to find some meaning for why they are alive and what they should choose to do with their time. When Martha leaves and we sit in front of the fire in the living room, I look to Lily until she turns to me and I can see the grief that hides just under the surface of her expression. We are, or at least were, two of those lost souls: wanderers, backpackers, season workers, Wwoofers, Workawayers, travellers: searching the world for something or someplace to hold on to. And we have come home not because we have retired from trying to find answers and are ready to settle into adulthood, but because my death has come upon us fast and unexpected. I am not the first person of this generation of travellers- or any person who lives in this godless, superficial society- to die. But I think that it feels to Lily and to me, my mother too perhaps, that I may very well be.

Travel teaches as much as a teacher.

Traveler! If you keep wandering in the path of wisdom you too eventually become a man of wisdom!

Travelling shouldn't be just a tour, it should be a tale.

Travelling the road will tell you more about the road than the google will tell you about the road.

Trekking means a travelling experience with a thrilling excitement.

Those who say traveling is expensive, are just ill-informed.

Travellers should always be ready to go wherever they need to, no matter the cost or time involved.

We will all have an end to this journey one day, some will have a great ending some will have it bad, but it’s the journey that they take that matters, in the end.

When you look closely to the path you have travel on, you will realise that God was always with you, directing every step you took.

Well, at least this is what I told myself every day as I fell asleep with the fire still burning and the moon shining high up in the sky and my head spinning comforting from two bottles of wine, and I smiled with tears in my eyes because it was beautiful and so god damn sad and I did not know how to be one of those without the other.

A road that does not lead to other roads always has to be retraced, unless the traveller chooses to rust at the end of it.

When you travel, the battered old suitcase only tells half the story...

Easy roads make sleepy travellers.

Wild life surprises you when you least expect it

Every Englishman abroad, until it is proved to the contrary, likes to consider himself a traveller and not a tourist.