The air is an extremely dangerous, jealous and exacting mistress. Once under the spell most lovers are faithful to the end, which is not always old age. Even those masters and princes of aerial fighting, the survivors of fifty mortal duels in the high air who have come scatheless through the War and all its perils, have returned again and again to their love and perished too often in some ordinary commonplace flight undertaken for pure amusement.
I feel like an aeroplane at the end of its flight, in the dusk, with the petrol running out, in search of a safe landing.
I must place on record my regret that the human race ever learned to fly.
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