How easy it is to be compassionate when it's yourself you see in trouble.

The highest art form of all is a human being in control of himself and his airplane in flight, urging the spirit of a machine to match his own.

We're the bridge across forever, arching above the sea, adventuring for our pleasure, living mysteries for the fun of it, choosing disasters triumphs challenges impossible odds, testing ourselves over and again, learning love and love and love!

Never had I understood that I command, with absolute authority, the ship of my life! I decide its mission and rules and discipline, at my word waits every tool and sail, every cannon, the strength of every soul on board. I'm master of a team of passionate skills to sail me through hell's own jaws the second I nod the direction to steer.

The airplane is just a bunch of sticks and wires and cloth, a tool for learning about the sky and about what kind of person I am, when I fly. An airplane stands for freedom, for joy, for the power to understand, and to demonstrate that understanding. Those things aren't destructable.

As long as we believe in sequential time, we see becoming instead of being. Beyond time, we are all one.

You choose, you live the consequences. Every yes, no, maybe, creates the school you call your personal experience.