... not only is life put in new patterns from the air, but it is somehow arrested, frozen into form. (The leaping hare is caught in a marble panel.) A glaze is put over life. There is no flaw, no crack in the surface; a still reservoir, no ripple on its face. Looking down from the air that morning, I felt that stillness rested like a light over the earth. The waterfalls seemed frozen solid; the tops of the trees were still; the river hardly stirred, a serpent gently moving under its shimmering skin.
I should like to be a full-time Mother and a full-time Artist and a full-time Wife-Companion and also a 'Charming Woman' on the side! And to be aware and record it all. I cannot do it all. Something must go - several things probably. The 'charming woman' first!
When the wedding march sounds the resolute approach, the clock no longer ticks, it tolls the hour. The figures in the aisle are no longer individuals, they symbolize the human race.
For in our family an experience was not finished, not truly experienced, unless written down or shared with another.
Frenchwomen just never look ungroomed, do they?
Travelers are always discoverers, especially those who travel by air. There are no signposts in the sky to show a man has passed that way before. There are no channels marked. The flier breaks each second into new uncharted seas.
When one is a stranger to oneself, then one is estranged from others, too.
And if flying, like a glass-bottomed bucket, can give you that vision, that seeing eye, which peers down on the still world below the choppy waves - it will always remain magic.
Cut asparagus at night - in desperation. When one is very tired one always does one more thing.
Fame is a kind of death because it arrests life around the person in the public eye.
Geniuses were like storms or cyclones, pulling everything into their path, sticks and stones and dust.
I can conceive of 'falling in love' over and over again. But 'marriage,' this richness of life itself, I cannot conceive of having again - or with anyone else. In this sense 'marriage' seems to me indissoluble.
people talk about 'sex' as though it hopped about by itself, like a frog!
war is a thug's game. The thug strikes first and harder. He doesn't go by rules and he isn't afraid of hurting people.
It was a magic caused by the collision of modern methods and old ones; modern history and ancient; accessibility and isolation. And it was a magic which could only strike spark about that time. A few years earlier, from the point of view of aircraft alone, it would have been impossible to reach these places; a few later, and there will be no such isolation.
I believe that what woman resents is not so much giving herself in pieces as giving herself purposelessly.
Duration is not a test of truth or falsehood.
The fundamental magic of flying, a miracle that has nothing to do with any of its practical purposes - purposes of speed, accessibility, and convenience - and will not change as they change.
For it is only framed in space that beauty blooms.
For it is not merely the trivial which clutters our lives but the important as well
It is only framed in space that beauty blooms; only in space are events, and objects and people unique and significant and therefore beautiful.
Woman must be the pioneer in this turning inward for strength. In a sense, she has always been the pioneer.
... writing letters is thinking, just as talking to you is thinking.
... the most ordinary everyday living is as delicate, as breath-taking, as difficult, takes as terrific physical and mental control and effort, as walking a tightrope.
Splutter, splutter. Yes - we're off - we're rising. But why start off with an engine like that? But it smooths out now, like a long sigh, like a person breathing easily, freely. Like someone singing ecstatically, climbing, soaring - sustained note of power and joy. We turn from the lights of the city; we pivot on a dark wing; we roar over the earth. The plane seems exultant now, even arrogant. We did it, we did it!
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