People travel to learn; most ov them (before they start) should learn to travel.
Josh Billings (1818-1885) American humorist, aphorist [pseud. of Henry Wheeler Shaw]
Everybody’s Friend, Or; Josh Billing’s Encyclopedia and Proverbial Philosophy of Wit and Humor, ch. 148 “Affurisms: Ink Brats” (1874)
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Quotations about:
vacation
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
If we could ever get vacations down to where you wasn’t any more tired on the day one was over than on our regular work day it would be wonderful.
Vacation cruises are advertised as luxurious journeys to exotic places, but a chief pleasure is the reading of books [….] On steamer chairs topside or poolside, in the lounges, everywhere you see men and women with their noses in books, devouring them for hours. The Book: Man’s Chief Weapon Against Tedium. Woman’s too.
Garrison Keillor (b. 1942) American entertainer, author
“The Floating Village,” New York Times (2010-01-06)
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Now, nature, as I am only too well aware, has her enthusiasts, but on the whole, I am not to be counted among them. To put it rather bluntly, I am not the type who wants to go back to the land; I am the type who wants to go back to the hotel.
Thou morning client, this is my retreat:
Go to the town and palace of the great.
No lawyer I, nor can your cause defend;
But old, and idle, and the muse’s friend.
Ease and repose I love, but if in vain
I seek them here; why not to town again?[Matutine cliens, urbis mihi causa relictae,
Atria, si sapias, ambitiosa colas.
Non sum ego causidicus, nec amaris litibus aptus,
Sed piger et senior Pieridumque comes;
tia me somnusque iuvant, quae magna negavit
Roma mihi: redeo, si vigilatur et hic.]Martial (AD c.39-c.103) Spanish Roman poet, satirist, epigrammatist [Marcus Valerius Martialis]
Epigrams [Epigrammata], Book 12, epigram 68 (12.68) (AD 101) [tr. Hay (1755)]
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(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
Whoe'er in town dist morning-homage pay,
And wast one cause, why thence I win'd my way;
Hunt now ambition's hants, let me advise;
And learn, at least in this, learn to be wise.
I am no brangler, nor can hairs untwine:
My growing age asks ease, yet woos the Nine.
Scenes are my joy, for which at Rome I sigh'd:
But thither I return, if here deni'd.
[tr. Elphinston (1782), Book 2, ep. 136]
O clients, that beset me in the morning, and who were the cause of my departure from Rome, frequent, if you are wise, the lordly mansions of the city. I am no lawyer, nor fitted for pleading troublesome causes, but inactive, somewhat advanced in years, and a votary of the Pierian sisters. I wish to enjoy repose and slumber, which great Rome denied; but I must return thither, if I am to be equally hunted here.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1859)]
Morning client, the cause of my leaving Rome, you would court, were you wise, the halls of greatness. No pleader am I, nor fitted for bitter lawsuits, but an indolent man and one growing old, and the comrade of the Muses. Ease and sleep attract me, and great Rome denied me these; I return if I am sleepless even here.
[tr. Ker (1919)]
I fled from Rome and early calls,
So, Spanish friends, I pray you,
Be wise and seek the lordly halls
Of those who can repay you.
I hate the courts, and legal strife
My lazy mind refuses,
For I am getting on in life
And love to serve the Muses;
Unbroken sleep I love; the stir
And din of Rome destroy it;
But I am going back to her
If here I can't enjoy it.
[tr. Pott & Wright (1921)]
Poor morning client (you remind me
Of all I loathed and left behind me
in Rome), if you had any nous
Instead of calling on my house
You'd haunt the mansions of the great.
I'm not some wealthy advocate
Blessed with a sharp, litigious tongue,
I'm just a lazy, far from young
Friend of the Muses who likes ease
And sleep. Great Rome denied me these:
If I can't find them even in Spain,
I may as well go back again.
[tr. Michie (1972)]
Morning client, reason why I left Rome, if you were sensible, you wuiold dance attendance on pretentious halls. I am no advocate nor apt for bitter lawsuits, but lazy and elderly and a companion of the Pierian maids. I am fond of leisure and sleep, which great Rome denied me. If I'm kept awake here too, I go back.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]
You want a patron, and you pester me --
Exactly what made me the City flee.
You're not at some ambitious lawyer's door.
A poet now retired, I'd rather snore.
If Rome you are inflicting on me here,
Then backward to the real one I must steer.
[tr. Wills (2007)]
You early-morning client -- you're the reason I left Rome. If you had sense, you'd hang around the lobbies of people who care about appearances. I'm no barrister, I've no head for bitter litigation: I'm sleepy, I'm getting old, I hang out with the Muses; what I like is free time and sleep, the very things that mighty Rome wouldn't let me have. If there are early mornings even here, I'm going back.
[tr. Nisbet (2015)]
Morning appointment -- my reason for leaving the city --
If you knew better, you would visit more ambitious homes.
I am no lawyer, no man prepared for harsh suits,
I am a lazy and aging friend of the Muses.
Sleep and leisure make me happy -- the very things
Which Rome denied me. But I’ll go back if I can’t sleep here.
[tr. @sentantiq (2018)]
I sell my time to get enough money to buy it back.
James Richardson (b. 1950) American poet
Vectors: Aphorisms and Ten-Second Essays (2001) #151
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One thing travel teaches is why living at home is so popular.
Ashleigh Brilliant (b. 1933) Anglo-American epigramist, aphorist, cartoonist
Pot-Shots, #2701
Happiness ain’t a thing in itself, it’s only a contrast with something that ain’t pleasant. That’s all it is. There ain’t a thing you can mention that is happiness in its own self — it’s only so by contrast with the other thing. And so, as soon as the novelty is over and the force of the contrast dulled, it ain’t happiness any longer, and you have to get something fresh.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
“Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven,” Harper’s Monthly Magazine (Dec 1907)
In America there are two classes of travel — first class, and with children. Traveling with children corresponds roughly to traveling third class in Bulgaria.
Robert Benchley (1889-1945) American humorist
Pluck and Luck (1925)
Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: This is the ideal life.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
Note (1898-07-04), Mark Twain’s Notebook, ch. 21 “In Vienna” (1935) [ed. Albert Bigelow Paine]
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Written while summering at a resort outside of Vienna. Paine notes, "Written in the Archduchess's album" (referring to Marie Theresa of Austria).
Oh, what more sweet than when, from care set free,
The spirit lays its burden down, and we,
With distant travel spent, come home and spread
Our limbs to rest along the wished-for bed.[O quid solutis est beatius curis,
cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino
labore fessi venimus larem ad nostrum,
desideratoque acquiescimus lecto?]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 31 “To Sirmio,” ll. 7-10 [tr. T. Martin (1861)]
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Sirmio was the peninsula where his country villa was built, present-day Sirmione on Lago di Garda.
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:
O, what so sweet as cares redress'd!
When the tir'd mind lays down its load;
When, with each foreign toil oppress'd,
We reach at length our own abode;
On our own wish'd-for couch recline,
And taste the bliss of sleep divine!
[tr. Nott (1795), # 28]
Then when the mind its load lays down;
When we regain, all hazards past,
And with long ceaseless travel tired,
Our household god again our own;
And press in tranquil sleep at last
The well-known bed so oft desired.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]
Sweetest of sweets to me that pastime seems,
When the mind drops her burden: when -- the pain
Of travel past -- our own cot we regain
And nestle on the pillow of our dreams.
[tr. Calverley (1862)]
Oh! what more blessèd than to find
Release from all our cares!
When layeth down the weary mind
The burden that it bears:
When, all our toil of travel o'er,
Our hearth again we tread,
And lay us down in peace once more
On the long-wish'd-for bed.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]
Days of happiness and bless,
What in life can match with this?
When with lightened heart the mind
Care and sorrow leaves behind,
And our weary wanderings o'er,
We have reached our own loved door,
And so no more abroad to roam,
Taste the dear delights of home.
[tr. Bliss (1872)]
Is there a scene more sweet than when
our clinging cares are undercase,
And, worn by alien moils and men,
The long untrodden sill repassed,
We press the kindly couch at last,
And find a full repayment there?
[tr. Hardy (1887)]
Oh what more blessèd be than cares resolved,
When mind casts burthen and by peregrine
Work over wearied, lief we hie us home
To lie reposing in the longed-for bed!
[tr. Burton (1893)]
O what greater blessing than cares released, when the mind casts down its burden, and when wearied with the toil of travel we reach our hearth, and rest in the long-for bed.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]
To think, O joy! that once again
I should be here upon my native soil!
At ease! O guerdon sweet! when, after wars,
With journeyings and vigils sore bestead,
Our own old home we come to, and the bed
So often longed for under alien stars.
[tr. Harman (1897)]
Ah , what is more blessed than to put cares away, when the mind lays by its burden, and tired with labour of far travel we have come to our own home and rest on the couch we longed for.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]
O what is sweeter than when loosed from care, when the mind throws down its burden, way-worn we reach our own hearth and at last find repose in the bed we have so often longed for.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]
Oh, what is sweeter than, when toil is past,
To come back home, the mind care-free at last,
The foreign labors done, the rest well-earned,
To seek the welcome couch for which we've yearned?
[tr. Stewart (1915)]
What joys so keen as all one's cares to shed,
To ease the burdened mind, no more to roam,
All travel-worn to reach th' ancestral home,
And rest at length in the long looked for bed.
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]
Joy beyond joy to loose the cares that chafe
And lay aside the burden of the mind!
Home after toilsome travel, home once more,
Snug in the cosy bed we wearied for.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]
Can there be more joy than this
To throw off the chains of office and in calm domestic bliss,
Wearied with the strain of travel, once again to rest my head,
Full reward of all my labours, in my dear, my longed-for bed?
[tr. Wright (1926)]
After many months of travel, nothing's better than to rest, relaxed and careless; sleep is heaven in our own beloved bed.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]
For what can be more blissful than to ease
One's troubles, when the mind puts off its load
And I return, all care-worn, to my hearth
And sleep in the bed I've longed for?
[tr. Hollander (1976)]
What could be better? Every care dissolving, shedding the burden of an exhausting journey, back home among the gods of our own household we find at last the couch, the rest we desired!
[tr. C. Martin (1979)]
O what freedom from care is more joyful
than when the mind lays down its burden,
and weary, back home from foreign toil,
we rest in the bed we longed for?
[tr. Kline (2001)]
What greater bliss than when, cares all dissolved,
the mind lays down its burden, and, exhausted
by our foreign labors we at last reach home
and sink into the bed we've so long yearned for?
[tr. Green (2005)]
O what is happier than worries released,
when the mind sets aside its burden, and we
having been exhausted from foreign labor, have come to our home,
and we rest in our longed for bed?
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.
Let everyone, then, do something, according to the measure of his capacities. To have no regular work, no set sphere of activity — what a miserable thing it is! How often long travels undertaken for pleasure make a man downright unhappy; because the absence of anything that can be called occupation forces him, as it were, out of his right element. Effort, struggles with difficulties! that is as natural to a man as grubbing in the ground is to a mole. To have all his wants satisfied is something intolerable — the feeling of stagnation which comes from pleasures that last too long. To overcome difficulties is to experience the full delight of existence.
[Inzwischen treibe jeder etwas, nach Maßgabe seiner Fähigkeiten. Denn wie nachteilig der Mangel an planmäßiger Tätigkeit, an irgend einer Arbeit, auf uns wirke, merkt man auf langen Vergnügungsreisen, als wo man, dann und wann, sich recht unglücklich fühlt; weil man, ohne eigentliche Beschäftigung, gleichsam aus seinem natürlichen Elemente gerissen ist. Sich zu mühen und mit dem Widerstande zu kämpfen ist dem Menschen Bedürfnis, wie dem Maulwurf das Graben. Der Stillstand, den die Allgenugsamkeit eines bleibenden Genusses herbeiführte, wäre ihm unerträglich. Hindernisse überwinden ist der Vollgenuß seines Daseins.]
Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) German philosopher
Parerga and Paralipomena, Vol. 1, “Aphorisms on the Wisdom of Life [Aphorismen zur Lebensweisheit],” ch. 5 “Counsels and Maxims [Paränesen und Maximen],” § 2.17 (1851) [tr. Saunders (1890)]
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(Source (German)). Alternate translation:
Nevertheless, everyone should do something according to the measure of his abilities. For on long pleasure-trips we see how pernicious is the effect on us of not having any systematic activity or work. On such trips we feel positively unhappy because we are without any proper occupation and are, so to speak, torn from our natural element. Effort, trouble, and struggle with opposition are as necessary to man as grubbing in the ground is to a mole. The stagnation that results from being wholly contented with a lasting pleasure would be for him intolerable. The full pleasure of his existence is in overcoming obstacles.
[tr. Payne (1974)]
HAL: If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work,
But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Henry IV, Part 1, Act 1, sc. 2, l. 211ff (1.2.211-212) (1597)
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I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.
Mark Twain (1835-1910) American writer [pseud. of Samuel Clemens]
Tom Sawyer Abroad, ch. 11 “The Sand-Storm” (1905)
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