What is that mountain goat doing way up here in the clouds?
Cloud-flying requires practice, even if you have every modern instrument, and unless you keep calm and collected you will get into trouble after you have been inside a really thick one for a few minutes. In the very early days of aviation, 1912 to be correct, I emerged from a cloud upside down, much to my discomfort, as I didn't know how to get right way up again. I found out somehow, or I wouldn't be writing this.
If you're faced with a forced landing, fly the thing as far into the crash as possible.
Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.
A fool and his money are soon married.
If black boxes survive air crashes - why don't they make the whole plane out of that stuff?
Gravity. It's not just a good idea; it's the law!
A fool and his money are soon partying.
The Constitution: it's not just a good idea, it's the law.
Flying is done largely with the imagination.
He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying.
A fool and his money are soon invited everywhere.
A fool and his money are soon elected.
What is it in fact, this learning to fly? To be precise, it is 'to learn NOT to fly wrong.' To learn to become a pilot is to learn - not to let oneself fly too slowly. Not to let oneself turn without accelerating. Not to cross the controls. Not to do this, and not to do that. . . . To pilot is negation.
In the space age, man will be able to go around the world in two hours - one hour for flying and one hour to get to the airport.
There's a lot of Hollywood bullshit about flying. I mean, look at the movies about test pilots or fighter pilots who face imminent death. The controls are jammed or something really important has fallen off the plane, and these guys are talking like magpies; their lives are flashing past their eyes, and they're flailing around in the cockpit. It just doesn't happen. You don't have time to talk. You're too damn busy trying to get out of the problem you're in to talk or ricochet around the cockpit. Or think about what happened the night after your senior prom.
If you don't like what you see, stop looking.
The odds against there being a bomb on a plane are a million to one, and against two bombs a million times a million to one. Next time you fly, cut the odds and take a bomb.
My first wife didn't like to fly, either.
The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be?--it is the same the angels breathe.
Two wrongs don't make a right.
I have flown in just about everything, with all kinds of pilots in all parts of the world - British, French, Pakistani, Iranian, Japanese, Chinese - and there wasn't a dime's worth of difference between any of them except for one unchanging, certain fact: the best, most skillful pilot has the most experience.
There are two kinds of airplanes - those you fly and those that fly you . . . You must have a distinct understanding at the very start as to who is the boss.
I was always afraid of dying. Always. It was my fear that made me learn everything I could about my airplane and my emergency equipment, and kept me flying respectful of my machine and always alert in the cockpit.
The way I see it, you can either work for a living or you can fly airplanes. Me, I'd rather fly.
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