My soul is in the sky.
In response to how he checked the weather, "I just whip out my blue card with a hole in it and read what it says: 'When color of card matches color of sky, FLY!'"
Nothing said I had to crash.
A single lifetime, even though entirely devoted to the sky, would not be enough for the study of so vast a subject. A time will come when our descendants will be amazed that we did not know things that are so plain to them.
All the calculations show it can't work. There's only one thing to do: make it work.
All agreed that the sensation of coasting on the air was delightful.
I wanted to go higher than Rockefeller Center, which was being erected across the street from Saks Fifth Avenue and was going to cut off my view of the sky. . . . Flying got into my soul instantly but the answer as to why must be found somewhere back in the mystic maze of my birth and childhood and the circumstances of my earlier life. Whatever I am is elemental and the beginnings of it all have their roots in Sawdust Road. I might have been born in a hovel, but I determined to travel with the wind and stars.
After about 30 minutes I puked all over my airplane. I said to my self, "Man, you made a big mistake."
The cost of solving the Comet mystery must be reckoned neither in money nor in manpower.
Its important not to focus so much on the statistics, but [on people's] perceptions.
I go out of my way to stay off commuter planes. I have skipped conferences because I would not fly on marginal airlines (and because of many mishaps, I also avoided flying on ValuJet).
I have flown ValuJet. ValuJet is a safe airline, as is our entire aviation system.
For they had learned that true safety was to be found in long previous training, and not in eloquent exhortations uttered when they were going into action.
Whenever we safely land in a plane, we promise God a little something.
I want to be remembered for only one thing: my contribution to aviation.
I realized how important it was to know something about aviation, and it was something I was interested in, so I followed my brother's footsteps and obtained my pilot's license.
Even before we . . . had reached 300 feet, I recognized that the sky would be my home. I tumbled out of the airplane with stars in my eyes.
The engine is the heart of an aeroplane, but the pilot is its soul.
The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision.
Why fly? Simple. I'm not happy unless there's some room between me and the ground.
A pilot's business is with the wind, and with the stars, with night, with sand, with the sea. He strives to outwit the forces of nature. He stares with expectancy for the coming of the dawn the way a gardener awaits the coming of spring. He looks forward to port as a promised land, and truth for him is what lives in the stars.
A pilot who says he has never been frightened in an airplane is, I'm afraid, lying.
A pilot must have a memory developed to absolute perfection. But there are two higher qualities which he also must have. He must have good and quick judgment and decision, and a cool, calm courage that no peril can shake.
Never fly anything that doesn't have the paint worn off the rudder Pedals.
Electronics were rascals, and they lay awake nights trying to find some way to screw you during the day. You could not reason with them. They had a brain and intestines, but no heart.
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