For a man who does not travel about, there is no felicity, and a good man who stays at home, is a bad man. Indra is the friend of him, who travels. Travel!
A traveller’s legs are like blossoming branches, and he himself grows and gathers the fruit. All his wrongs vanish, destroyed by his exertion on the roadside. Travel!
The fortune of a man who sits, also sits; it rises, when he rises; it sleeps, when he sleeps; it moves well, when he moves. Travel!
A man who sleeps, is like the Iron Age. A man who awakes, is like the Bronze Age. A man who rises up, is like the Silver Age. A man who travels, is like the Golden Age. Travel!
A traveller finds honey; a traveller finds sweet figs. Look at the happiness of the sun, who travailing never tires. Travel!