The pleasant fact is that the British are not much good at violent crime except in fiction, which is of course as it should be.

The thing about Ayers Rock is that by the time you finally get there you are already a little sick of it.

I suppose because I grew up a thousand miles from the sea and missed the great age of passenger liners, I have always been subject to a romantic longing for ocean travel.

The romance of travel wasn't always terribly evident to those who were actually experiencing it.

Perhaps it’s my natural pessimism, but it seems that an awfully large part of travel these days is to see things while you still can.

I could spend my life arriving each evening in a new city.

I love the feeling of being anonymous in a city I've never been before.

Traveling makes you realize what an immeasurably nice place much of America could be if only people possessed the same instinct for preservation as they do in Europe.