You wait a lifetime to meet someone who understands you, accepts you as you are. At the end, you find that someone, all along, has been you.

Respect for sovereignity, for privacy, for total independence. Gentle alliances against loneliness, they were, cool rational love-affairs without the love.

When you're flying, an airplane doesn't care who you are; it doesn't care how much money you make or don't make. All it cares about is: How well do you fly? How well do you know the airplane? How well do you know the sky?

What I love doing is basically two things: I love flying airplanes and I love communication.

Hate is love without enough data.

I don't think any of my books tell the reader anything new. But they do remind, in a time that is strident and screeching about the limitations of this world and all the trouble we can get ourselves into.

don't you think between here and now we will see each other once or twice?