We Travel To Open Our Hearts And

For More And More Of Us, Home Has Really Less To Do With A Piece Of Soil Than, You Could Say, With A Piece Of Soul. If Somebody Suddenly Asks Me, "where's Your Home?" I Think About My Sweetheart Or My Closest Friends Or The Songs That Travel With Me Wherever I Happen To Be.

To This Day, At My Relatively Advanced Age, I Still Don't Have A Place I Can Really Call Home. I've Never Bought Property. I Just Move Between Temporary Base Camps. I Know That The Very Notion Of Home, Of Having A Family Or Community, Is A Hard One For Me To Embrace.

I'm One Of Those Perverse People Who Likes Being Alone. I Always Took Myself To Be A Community Of One. That's What I Am Comfortable With.

We Can Better See What We Don't Have. The Other Man's Grass Is Always Greener And Now We Can Actually Go And Visit His Grass Much More And Feel The Absence Of Green In Our Own Lives.

The Reason I Love Travel Is Not Just Because It Transports You In Every Sense, But Because It Confronts You With Emotional And Moral Challenges That You Would Never Have To Confront At Home. So I Like Going Out In Search Of Moral And Emotional Adventure Which Throws Me Back Upon Myself And Forces Me To Reconsider My Assumptions And The Things I Took For Granted. It Sends Me Back A Different Person.