For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.

One learns to accept the fact that no permanent return is possible to an old form of relationship; and, more deeply still, that there is no holding of a relationship to a single form. This is not tragedy but part of the ever-recurrent miracle of life and growth.

For the most part, we, who could choose simplicity, choose complication.

For happiness one needs security, but joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair.

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.

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.

It is nice to think how one can be recklessly lost in a daisy!