What if each man learns to know all his fellow men; learns how the other fellow lies and walks and talks; learns what sort of trees and rocks and homes make up his existence?

But wherever there is man, there must be some sort of route

In London it had seemed impossible to travel without the proper evening clothes. One could see an invitation arriving for an Embassy ball or something. But on the other side of Europe with the first faint tinges of faraway places becoming apparent and exciting, to say nothing of vanishing roads and extra weight, Embassy balls held less significance.

...it was if another planet were calling. The call, embodied, issued in liquid syllables from the mouth of the Arab sailor who, on the prow of the Vestra each sun-up, looked toward the East and sang the Persian song:Hearken unto dawn, oh, my soul...Let good come unto the world.

...all the disadvantages of good roads: high speed, and almost total lack of that inspiring factor in travel -- the welcoming hand of the interested stranger.

The garage man at Hanoi is my friend; the Commandant at Abu-Shamat is my friend; the men of the camel caravan in Jagdalak Pass are my friends. The best friends I have in the world.

No doubt you are wondering what you will find, out there.' The Commandant said it for me.'Well, it would be useless for me to try and tell you. The desert tells a different story every time one ventures on it...

What manner of people they were only books and other people could tell... and the tale was a long and gory one dating from the dim, conjectural dawn of history. But being human they were as apt to change as mother nature to remain constant.

I probably did too much thinking in India. I blame it on the roads, for they were superb...