To be a man is, precisely, to be responsible.

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.

The airplane has unveiled for us the true face of the earth.

The thing that is important is the thing that is not seen.

Using an artful tool does not make one a dry technician. It seems to me that people that are anxious about our technical advancement, confuse means and ends. Naturally a person that only works for material gain will not harvest something that is worth living for. But the machine is not an end in itself. The airplane is not an end. It is a tool. Just like the plough.

On ne sait jamais! One never knows!

One day, I watched the sun setting forty-four times......You know...when one is so terribly sad, one loves sunsets.