As I stepped on the moon, I looked around, dazed...magnifice nt. The vast, sandy silver surface was almost illusory.

I tell you, we're going to be busy for a minute.

I believe that the Good Lord gave us a finite number of heartbeats and I'm damned if I'm going to use up mine running up and down a street.

I am comfortable with my level of public discourse.

Pilots take no special joy in walking: pilots like flying.

The [Moon] surface is fine and powdery. I can kick it up loosely with my toe. It does adhere in fine layers like powdered charcoal to the sole and sides of my boots. I only go in a small fraction of an inch, maybe an eighth of an inch, but I can see the footprints of my boots and the treads in the fine sandy particles.

This blowing dust became increasingly thicker. It was very much like landing in a fast moving ground fog.