Currently reading a biography of Sir Richard Francis Burton. In one of his books, he reminisces about departing the port of Bombay toward Africa, the beginning of his expedition to be the first white man to find the source of the Nile:

Of the gladdest moments in human life, methinks [he had written on sailing], is the departure upon a distant journey into unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of Habit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares and the slavery of Home, one feels once more happy. The blood flows with the fast circulation of childhood… A journey, in fact, appeals to Imagination, to Memory, to Hope, -the three sister Graces of our moral being.

Then, regaining somewhat his composure, he adds: “Somewhat boisterous, but true.”

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