I want to live, I want to travel,
I do not want to become a fountain pen.
— Jean Cocteau
like a mole struck from a tunnel, like an onion
dragged from a root cellar, tentacles of hope
lifting green limbs into light
— George Kalamaras
thoughts are only one aspect of conscious life
— Adrie Kusserow
Travel makes you no one
and if you are no one already, travel takes you home
— Terese Svoboda
no word in Greek for privacy
Only secrecy, or loneliness
— Diane Thiel
Ah! Que le monde est grande a la chatte des lampes
Aux yeux du souvenir, que le monde est petit
— Charles Baudelaire
why take what’s offered, why not walk toward
the green & flickering sea that comes to meet us
— Diane di Prima
it’s not really camping when you don’t have a house
— Neal Stephenson
sleep is the shadow of the earth as it seeps into our skin and
spreads throughout our limbs, dissolving our individual will into
the thousand and one selves that compose it — cells, tissues,
and organs taking their prime directives now from gravity and
the wind
— David Abram
Imagine that you are always wrong.
— Y. Madrone
When property = freedom
choose itineracy or vagabondage over the happy home.
— Zoe Tuck
I write with a longing that a wire has for electricity.
— Amir Rabiyah
Write a sentence that is a drone.
— E. C. Crandall
It used to be that even talking on the phone meant your voice
had to be somewhere
— Jaron Lanier
it is something strictly American to conceive a space that is filled
with moving, a space of time that is filled always filled with
moving
— Gertrude Stein
and the little breezes of her speeches smell like parsley
— Alice Oswald
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