It seems to me that the conquest of the air is the only major task for our generation.

An opinion can be argued with; a conviction is best shot. The logical end of a war of creeds is the final destruction of one, and Salammbo is the classical text-book instance.

If I could talk it like Dahoum, you would never be tired of listening to me.

This creed of the desert seemed inexpressible in words, and indeed in thought.

Suppose we were (as we might be) an influence, an idea, a thing intangible, invulnerable, without front or back, drifting about like a gas? Armies were like plants, immobile, firm-rooted, nourished through long stems to the head. We might be a vapour, blowing where we listed Ours should be a war of detachment. We were to contain the enemy by the silent threat of a vast, unknown desert

As long as the Arabs fight tribe against tribe, so long will they be a little people, a silly people, greedy, barbarous and cruel.

The dreamers of the day are dangerous... for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.