In A Time Of War, Truth Is

Decades Spent In Contact With Science And Its Vehicles Have Directed My Mind And Senses To Areas Beyond Their Reach. I Now See Scientific Accomplishments As A Path, Not An End; A Path Leading To And Disappearing In Mystery.

How Long Can Men Thrive Between Walls Of Brick, Walking On Asphalt Pavements, Breathing The Fumes Of Coal And Of Oil, Growing, Working, Dying, With Hardly A Thought Of Wind, And Sky, And Fields Of Grain, Seeing Only Machine-made Beauty, The Mineral-like Quality Of Life?

Aviation Has Struck A Delicately Balanced World, A World Where Stability Was Already Giving Way To The Pressure Of New Dynamic Forces, A World Dominated By A Mechanical, Materialist, Western European Civilization.

Ideas Are Like Seeds, Apparently Insignificant When First Held In The Hand. Once Firmly Planted, They Can Grow And Flower Into Almost Anything At All, A Cornstalk, Or A Giant Redwood, Or A Flight Across The Ocean. Whatever A Man Imagines, He Can Achieve.

One Boy's A Boy, Two Boys Are Half A Boy; Three Boys Are No Boy At All.