Romantic love is mental illness. But it's a pleasurable one.
The hard, inescapable reality is that anyone who flies may die in an airplane.
Here above the farms and ranches of the Great Plains aviation lives up to the promise that inspired dreamers through the ages. Here you are truly separate from the earth, at least for a little while, removed from the cares and concerns that occupy you on the ground. This separation from the earth is more than symbolic, more than a physical removal - it has an emotional dimension as tangible as the wood, fabric, and steel that has transported you aloft.
Mistakes are inevitable in aviation, especially when one is still learning new things. The trick is to not make the mistake that will kill you.
All really great flying adventures begin at dawn.
The irony of the information age is that it lends credibility to uninformed opinion.
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.
The hands have to be like concrete when the horse resists and like butter when he yields.
Nothing belongs to you or me. Nothing belongs. Everything, everything, everything simply IS.
I exist in the depths of solitude pondering my true goal Trying 2 find peace of mind and still preserve my soul
Creativity gives hope that there can be a worthwhile idea.