Before The Development Of Tourism, Travel Was

Things Without Defense: Insects, Kittens, Small Boys.

The Middles Cleave To Euphemisms Not Just Because They're An Aid In Avoiding Facts. They Like Them Also Because They Assist Their Social Yearnings Towards Pomposity. This Is Possible Because Most Euphemisms Permit The Speaker To Multiply Syllables, And The Middle Class Confuses Sheer Numerousness With Weight And Value.

"those Who Fought Know A Secret About Themselves, And It Is Not Very Nice." ... They Have Experienced Secretly And Privately Their Natural Human Impulse Toward Sadism And Brutality... Not Merely Did I Learn To Kill With A Noose Of Piano Wire Put Around Somebody's Neck From Behind, But I Learned To Enjoy The Prospect Of Killing That Way.

Travel At Its Truest Is Thus An Ironic Experience, And The Best Travellers . . . Seem To Be Those Able To Hold Two Or Three Inconsistent Ideas In Their Minds At The Same Time, Or Able To Regard Themselves As At Once Serious Persons And Clowns.

All The Pathos And Irony Of Leaving One's Youth Behind Is Thus Implicit In Every Joyous Moment Of Travel: One Knows That The First Joy Can Never Be Recovered, And The Wise Traveller Learns Not To Repeat Successes But Tries New Places All The Time.