You will, if you're wise and know the art of travel, let yourself go on the stream of the unknown and accept whatever comes in the spirit in which the gods may offer it.
The true fruit of travel is perhaps the feeling of being nearly everywhere at home.
The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence - free of the networks of dead speech.
The beckoning counts, and not the clicking of the latch behind you.
Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.