Certain Travelers Give The Impression

One Travels To Run Away From Routine, That Dreadful Routine That Kills All Imagination And All Our Capacity For Enthusiasm.

You Can Feel As Brave As Columbus Starting For The Unknown The First Time You Enter A Chinese Lane Full Of Boys Laughing At You, Or When You Risk Climbing Down In A Tibetan Pub For A Meal Of Rotten Meat.

The True Traveller Is The One Urged To Move About For Physical, Aesthetic, Intellectual As Well As Spiritual Reasons.

I Can See Now That A Concept Or Even A Feeling Makes No Sense Unless Out Of Our Substance We Spin Around It A Web Of References, Of Relationships, Of Values.

I Refuse To Imprison Our Acts In The Rigid Mould Of Sentences.