These phantoms speak with human voices — friendly, vapor- like shapes, without substance, able to vanish or appear at will, to pass in and out through the walls of the fuselage as though no walls were there. At times, voices come out of the air itself, clear yet far away, traveling through distances that can't be measured by the scale of human miles; familiar voices, conversing and advising on my flight, discussing problems of my navigation, reassuring me, giving me messages of importance unattainable in ordinary life.

The essence of life, I concluded, did not lie in the material. It penetrated, but was not bound to, the physical world of science.

At first you can stand the spotlight in your eyes. Then it blinds you. Others can see you, but you cannot see them.

Air power is new to all our countries. It brings advantages to some and weakens others; it calls for readjustment everywhere.

Aviation seems almost a gift from heaven to those Western nations who were already the leaders of their era, strengthening their leadership, their confidence, their dominance over other peoples.

Then what am I - the body substance which I can see with my eyes and feel with my hands? Or am I this realization, this greater understanding which dwells within it, yet expands through the universe outside; a part of all existence, powerless but without need for power; immersed in solitude, yet in contact with all creation? There are moments when the two appear inseparable, and others when they could be cut apart by the merest flash of light.

Whatever a man imagines he can attain, if he doesn't become too arrogant and encroach on the rights of the gods.