What Sets Men At Variance Is But

We Are All Youthful Barbarians, And Only Our New Toys Bring Us Excitement. That Has Been The Sole Purpose Of Our Flights. This One Flies Higher, That One Faster. But Now We Will Make Ourselves At Home. We Will Forget The Machine, The Tool. It Is No Longer Complex; It Does What It Is Supposed To Do, Unnoticed. And Through This Tool We Will Find Again The Old Nature, The Nature Of The Gardener, The Navigator, The Poet.

Action And Personal Happiness Have No Truck With Each Other; They Are Eternally At War.

My Senses Of Space, Of Distance, And Of Direction Entirely Vanished. When I Looked For The Ground I Sometimes Looked Down, Sometimes Up, Sometimes Left, Sometimes Right. I Thought I Was Very High Up When I Would Suddenly Be Thown To Earth In A Near Vertical Spin. I Thought I Was Very Low To The Ground And I Was Pulled Up To 3,000 Feet In Two Minutes By The 500-horsepower Motor. It Danced, It Pushed, It Tossed. . . . Ah! La La!

If I Were To Command A General To Turn Into A Seagull, And If The General Did Not Obey, That Would Not Be The General's Fault. It Would Be Mine.

Look At The Sky. Ask Yourselves: Has The Sheep Eaten The Flower, Yes Or No? And You Will See How Everything Changes.