There's no end to the absurd things people will do trying to make life mean something.

The first time I flew, it was being alive. Nothing was pressing under me. I was living in the fullness of air air all around me, no holding place to break the air spaces. It's worth everything to be alone in the air, alive.

What is love? As far as I can tell, it is passion, admiration and respect. If you have two, you have enough. If you have all three, you don't have to die to go to heaven.

Love is a combination of admiration, respect, and passion. If you have one of those going, that's par for the course. If you have two, you aren't quite world class but you're close. If you have all three, then you don't need to die you're already in heaven.

People can't fly because they don't believe they can. If nobody ever showed people they could swim, everybody'd drown if they were dropped into the water.

It occurs to me one evening as I'm feeding the birds that all I did was put two birds in the aviary, some food and water and nothing else and now there are six of them. I know this is perfectly natural, it's one of the things life is all about, but to have it happen in my bedroom, under my own eyes, is magic.

Not many people are interested in what somebody else is thinking, or what they have to say. The best you can hope for is they'll listen to you just so you'll have to listen to them.

Things come apart much easier than they go together.

Movement is most of what a bird is. When they're dead, they're only feathers and air.

Sometimes looking so hard can make one blind.

What we all tend to complain about most in other people are those things we don't like about ourselves.