Lovers of air travel find it exhilarating to hang poised between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death.

There are few places you can find silence. Air travel could be the last fortress of solitude.

Furloughing a bunch of air traffic controllers has a pretty easy-to-predict effect on air travel: It causes delays.

People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of
life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they
continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It
is as though they were traveling abroad.

When the plane is delayed, it's not the fault of the girl at the desk. I'm resigned to the fact that everything is out of my control and that air travel nowadays is barbaric.

A world with a sudden limit on air travel would be tremendously different from the one we live in now.