Man Is A Mixture Of

I Saw A Fleet Of Fishing Boats...i Flew Down Almost Touching The Craft And Yelled At Them, Asking If I Was On The Right Road To Ireland. They Just Stared. Maybe They Didn't Hear Me. Maybe I Didn't Hear Them. Or Maybe They Thought I Was Just A Crazy Fool.

I Began To Feel That I Lived On A Higher Plane Than The Skeptics Of The Ground; One That Was Richer Because Of Its Very Association With The Element Of Danger They Dreaded, Because It Was Freer Of The Earth To Which They Were Bound. In Flying, I Tasted A Wine Of The Gods Of Which They Could Know Nothing. Who Valued Life More Highly, The Aviators Who Spent It On The Art They Loved, Or These Misers Who Doled It Out Like Pennies Through Their Antlike Days? I Decided That If I Could Fly For Ten Years Before I Was Killed In A Crash, It Would Be A Worthwhile Trade For An Ordinary Life Time.

Shut Your Eyes And You Will Know What I Mean By Thought Entombed In Darkness. Light Comes Through The Senses, And Not Only Through The Sense Of Sight. When You See Without Feeling, You Are Still Partly Blind; You Lack The Inner Light That Brings Awareness. Awareness Requires The Interplay Of Every Faculty, The Use Of Your Entire Being As An Eye.

When The President Signs This Act, The Invisible Government By The Money Power Will Be Legalized.

These Phantoms Speak With Human Voices — Friendly, Vapor- Like Shapes, Without Substance, Able To Vanish Or Appear At Will, To Pass In And Out Through The Walls Of The Fuselage As Though No Walls Were There. At Times, Voices Come Out Of The Air Itself, Clear Yet Far Away, Traveling Through Distances That Can't Be Measured By The Scale Of Human Miles; Familiar Voices, Conversing And Advising On My Flight, Discussing Problems Of My Navigation, Reassuring Me, Giving Me Messages Of Importance Unattainable In Ordinary Life.