For most gulls it was not flying that matters, but eating. For this gull, though, it was not eating that mattered, but flight.

Flying has always been to me this wonderful metaphor. In order to fly you have to trust what you can't see. Up on the mountain ridges where very few people have been I have thought back to what every flyer knows. That there is this special world in which we dwell that's not marked by boundaries, it's not a map. We're not hedged about with walls and desks. So often in an office the very worst thing that can happen is you could drop your pencil. Out there's a reminder that are a lot worse things, and a lot greater rewards.

If we must lose wife or husband when we live to our highest right, we lose an unhappy marriage as well, and we gain ourselves. But if a marriage is born between two already self-discovered, what a lovely adventure begins, hurricanes and all.

I think the source of our sorrow and the source of our joy are intimately entwined. Our sorrow is that we have forgotten who we are, we have forgotten we are one with that source of all life - absolutely indestructible, perfect, joyful. The source of our joy is when we remember that.

How much to learn if we could spend one hour, spend twenty minutes, with the us we will become! How much could we say to the us we were.

Character comes from following our highest sense of right, from trusting ideas without being sure they’ll work.

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea.