I don't think... one get a flash of happiness once, and never again; it is there deep within you.

It is not the visions but the activity which makes you happy, and the joy and glory of the flier is the flight itself.

There are many ways to the recognition of truth, and Burgundy is one of them.

One does not travel by plane. One is merely sent, like a parcel.

And were my faith so strong that it could move mountains, that is the mountain that I would make come to me.

death - a passage outside the range of imagination, but within the range of experience.

Up in this air you breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance and lightness of heart. In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be.