Through all his years of roving, even on nights like this, he had remained blind to the beauty of the sea, and now his feeling toward it had settled into weary hatred. He knew its...

All night, after the exhausting games of canasta, we would look over the immense sea, full of white-flecked and green reflections, the two of us leaning side by side on the railing, each of us...

She is like a butterfly, Beautiful to look at But hard to catch.

I know it’s not strictly sex that accounts for my straying the motive usually attributed to men. I think it’s just too tempting to have two lives rather than one. Some people think that too...

What if it’s the thereand not the herethat I long for?The wanderand not the wait,the magicin the lost feetstumbling downthe faraway streetand the way the moonnever hangsquite the same.

I’m sorry! I really am! I wanted to get out of this place! I want to live! I want to get away from here and never see it again! I hate everything about it!””You will...

That year, when the trees burned the fire of late summer into their leaves and the ground mist was a ghost of the river, long and wet and cold, the aunt looked from her windows...

He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams.

Delay and dirt are the realities of the most rewarding travel.

It was the inverse of an island in the sea.

There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, A race that can’t sit still;So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will.They range the field and rove...

You don’t even know where I’m going.””I don’t care. I’d like to go anywhere.

Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.

It’s hard to go. It’s scary and lonely…and half the time you’ll be wondering why the hell you’re in Cincinnati or Austin or North Dakota or Mongolia or wherever your melodious little finger-plucking heinie takes...

..luxury is the enemy of observation, a costly indulgence that induces such a good feeling that you notice nothing. Luxury spoils and infantilizes you and prevents you from knowing the world. That is its purpose,...

In her fury she’d broken into Valencian, indicating the deepest possible roots in the land. I was impressed with how deeply she was from here, in a way I could never imagine being from anywhere,...

The Wanderlust has got me… by the belly-aching fire