Travel At Its Truest Is Thus An

So Many Bright Futures Consigned To The Ashes Of The Past.so Many Dreams Lost In The Madness That Had Engulfed Us.except For A Few Widely Scattered Shouts Of Joy,the Survivors Of The Abyss Sat Hollow-eyed And Silent, Trying To Comprehend A World Without War.

Every War Is Ironic Because Every War Is Worse Than Expected. Every War Constitutes An Irony Of Situation Because Its Means Are So Melodramatically Disproportionate To Its Presumed Ends.

Chickenshit Can Be Recognized Instantly Because It Never Has Anything To Do With Winning The War.

Tourism Requires That You See Conventional Things, And That You See Them In A Conventional Way.

Exploration Belongs To The Renaissance, Travel To The Bourgeois Age, Tourism To Our Proletarian Moment.the Explorer Seeks Theundiscovered, The Traveler That Which Has Been Discovered By The Mind Working In History,the Tourist That Which Has Been Discovered By Entrepreneurship And Prepared For Him By The Arts Of Mass Publicity.if The Explorer Moves Toward The Risks Of The Formless And The Unknown, The Tourist Moves Toward The Security Of Pure Cliché. It Is Between These Two Poles That The Traveler Mediates.