But the beauty is in the walking -- we are betrayed by destinations.

[Walking] is the perfect way of moving if you want to see into the life of things. It is the one way of freedom. If you go to a place on anything but your own feet you are taken there too fast, and miss a thousand delicate joys that were waiting for you by the wayside.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not.

I firmly believe that everyone deserves to live within walking distance of either beauty or convenience, if not both. (48)

Once you have heard the lark, known the swish of feet through hill-top grass and smelt the earth made ready for the seed, you are never again going to be fully happy about the cities and towns that man carries like a crippling weight upon his back.

There are still parts of Wales where the only concession to gaiety is a striped shroud.