The hard, inescapable reality is that anyone who flies may die in an airplane.

A little mountain will kill you just as dead as a big one if you fly into it.

This thing we call luck is merely professionalism and attention to detail, it's your awareness of everything that is going on around you, it's how well you know and understand your airplane and your own limitations. Luck is the sum total of your of abilities as an aviator. If you think your luck is running low, you'd better get busy and make some more. Work harder. Pay more attention. Do better preflights.

Flight is romance - not in the sense of sexual attraction, but as an experience that enriches life.

With the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, and the rudder beneath my feet, I can savor that essence from which life is made.

Flying is like sex - I've never had all I wanted but occasionally I've had all I could stand.

I am alive. Up here with the song of the engine and the air whispering on my face as the sunlight and shadows play upon the banking, wheeling wings, I am completely, vibrantly alive. With the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, and the rudder beneath my feet, I can savor that essence from which life is made.