Thor Heyerdahl Quotes

...and it strikes her, as she walks, that borders, like hatred, are exaggerated precisely because otherwise they would cease to exist altogether.

Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.

The human mind makes foolish divisions in what love sees as one.

Most SF is about madness, or what is currently ruled to be madness; this is part of its attraction - it's always playing with how much the human mind can encompass.

We never see other people anyway, only the monsters we make of them.

Never say never, because limits, like fears, are often just an illusion.

The illusion which exalts us is dearer to us than ten thousand truths.

It's just such a freeing thing to set these great challenges for yourself, to travel, to learn more about the world, to just go out there and get crazy and get free and get strong.

Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.

There are times when I catch myself believing that there is such a thing as something; which is separate from something else.

The distinction between sanity and insanity is narrower than a razor’s edge, sharper than a hound’s tooth, more agile than a mule deer. It is more elusive than the merest phantom. Perhaps it does not even exist; perhaps it is a phantom.

We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost.

To many people holidays are not voyages of discovery, but a ritual of reassurance.

May your adventures bring you closer together, even as they take you far away from home.

We are limited only by our thoughts

Few topographical boundaries can rival the frontiers of the mind.

All limitations are self-imposed.

One feels a quickening of the pulse when one crosses a border.

A wise man travels to discover himself.

Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world.

Any assault on the borders of perception is going to seem rash at first.

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.

Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path. . .

When one first seeks the truth, one separates oneself from it.