All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.

The Beduin could not look for God within him: he was too sure that he was within God.

The desert was held in a crazed communism by which Nature and the elements were for the free use of every known friendly person for his own purposes and no more.

Immorality, I know. Immortality, I cannot judge.

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

I could write for hours on the lustfulness of moving Swiftly.

The Beduin of the desert, born and grown up in it, had embraced with all his sour this nakedness too harsh for volunteers, for the reason, felt but inarticulate, that there he found himself indubitably free.