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Project Management. Activity Components. Country Finland Damen Engineering Helsinki. Damen Engineering Gdansk. Damen Shipyards Galati. Damen Shipyards Mangalia. Marine Engineering Galati. Damen Marine Components. Damen Schelde Naval Shipbuilding. Damen Shipbuilding Rotterdam. Damen Shiprepair Amsterdam. Damen Shiprepair Rotterdam. Damen Shiprepair Vlissingen. Damen Shipyards Gorinchem. Damen Shipyards Group. Damen Shipyards Hardinxveld. Gliders, sailplanes, they are wonderful flying machines.

It's the closest you can come to being a bird. More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination. The exhilaration of flying is too keen, the pleasure too great, for it to be neglected as a sport.

Within all of us is a varying amount of space lint and star dust, the residue from our creation.

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Most are too busy to notice it, and it is stronger in some than others. It is strongest in those of us who fly and is responsible for an unconscious, subtle desire to slip into some wings and try for the elusive boundaries of our origin. No one can realize how substantial the air is, until he feels its supporting power beneath him.

It inspires confidence at once. We returned home, after these experiments, with the conviction that sailing flight was not the exclusive prerogative of birds. When gliding operators have attained greater skill, they can maintain themselves in the air for hours at a time. The soaring pilot makes an aerial excursion, not an incursion.

His passage leaves a whisper, not a shriek. The air to a glider pilot is a reality…. He is trying to understand it in all its moods; to learn its flow, its laws, and to try and use this knowledge to his own ends. By day, or on a cloudless night, a pilot may drink the wine of the gods, but it has an earthly taste; he's a god of the earth, like one of the Grecian deities who lives on worldly mountains and descended for intercourse with men.

But at night, over a stratus layer, all sense of the planet may disappear. You know that down below, beneath that heavenly blanket is the earth, factual and hard. But it's an intellectual knowledge; it's a knowledge tucked away in the mind; not a feeling that penetrates the body. And if at times you renounce experience and mind's heavy logic, it seems that the world has rushed along on its orbit, leaving you alone flying above a forgotten cloud bank, somewhere in the solitude of interstellar space.

It's wonderful to climb the liquid mountains of the sky, Behind me and before me is God and I have no fears. My airplane is quiet, and for a moment still an alien, still a stranger to the ground, I am home. Instead of our drab slogging forth and back to the fishing boats, there's a reason to life! We can lift ourselves out of ignorance, we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill.

We can be free! We can learn to fly! The airplane is just a bunch of sticks and wires and cloth, a tool for learning about the sky and about what kind of person I am, when I fly. An airplane stands for freedom, for joy, for the power to understand, and to demonstrate that understanding. Those things aren't destructable. Never stop being a kid. Never stop feeling and seeing and being excited with great things like air and engines and sounds of sunlight within you.

Wear your little mask if you must to protect you from the world but if you let that kid disappear you are grown up and you are dead. The fascination of flight can't be expressed with words. But it really lies beyond the capabilities of human endeavor. Lovers of air travel find it exhilarating to hang poised between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death. It is as though we have grown wings, which thanks to Providence, we have learnt to control. Flying was a very tangible freedom. In those days, it was beauty, adventure, discovery — the epitome of breaking into new worlds.

Science, freedom, beauty, adventure: what more could you ask of life? Aviation combined all the elements I loved. There was science in each curve of an airfoil, in each angle between strut and wire, in the gap of a spark plug or the color of the exhaust flame. There was freedom in the unlimited horizon, on the open fields where one landed. A pilot was surrounded by beauty of earth and sky. He brushed treetops with the birds, leapt valleys and rivers, explored the cloud canyons he had gazed at as a child. Adventure lay in each puff of wind. 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. To put your life in danger from time to time… breeds a saneness in dealing with day-to-day trivialities. Once you have learned to fly your plane, it is far less fatiguing to fly than it is to drive a car.

You don't have to watch every second for cats, dogs, children, lights, road signs, ladies with baby carriages and citizens who drive out in the middle of the block against the lights…. Nobody who has not been up in the sky on a glorious morning can possibly imagine the way a pilot feels in free heaven. Piper, president of Piper Aircraft Corporation. Courage is the price that life extracts for granting peace. The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things.

The soul that knows it not knows no release from little things. Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, Nor mountain heights, where bitter joy can hear The sound of wings. Whatever any other organism has been able to do man should surely be able to do also, though he may go a different way about it. Ours is the commencement of a flying age, and I am happy to have popped into existence at a period so interesting.

From the air, the distinctions between residential, commercial, and industrial areas are easily understand while town, county, and state boundaries go unseen. The magic of the craft has opened for me a world in which I shall confront, within two hours, the black dragons and the crowned crests of a coma of blue lightnings, and when night has fallen I, delivered, shall read my course in the starts.

The modern airplane creates a new geographical dimension. A navigable ocean of air blankets the whole surface of the globe. There are no distant places any longer: the world is small and the world is one. We humans are basically content with a two-dimensional world, which is what we — ve always occupied. We travel mostly on the ground, have traffic jams, parking problems , and we — d do a lot better to look up a little bit because there is that great aerial highway that — s always ready to go, you Don't have to pave it and the benefits are very great.

The Wright Brothers created the single greatest cultural force since the invention of writing. The airplane became the first World Wide Web, bringing people, languages, ideas, and values together. Maybe it's sex appeal, but there's something about an airplane that drives investors crazy. The scream of jet engines rises to a crescendo on the runways of the world. Every second, somewhere or other, a plane touches down, with a puff of smoke from scorched tyre rubber, or rises in the air, leaving a smear of black fumes dissolving in its wake. From space, the earth might look to a fanciful eye like a huge carousel, with planes instead of horses spinning round its circumference, up and down, up and down.

My senses of space, of distance, and of direction entirely vanished. When I looked for the ground I sometimes looked down, sometimes up, sometimes left, sometimes right. I thought I was very high up when I would suddenly be thown to earth in a near vertical spin. I thought I was very low to the ground and I was pulled up to 3, feet in two minutes by the horsepower motor. It danced, it pushed, it tossed…. Even before [we] … had reached feet, I recognized that the sky would be my home. I tumbled out of the airplane with stars in my eyes. I wanted to go higher than Rockefeller Center, which was being erected across the street from Saks Fifth Avenue and was going to cut off my view of the sky….

Flying got into my soul instantly but the answer as to why must be found somewhere back in the mystic maze of my birth and childhood and the circumstances of my earlier life. Whatever I am is elemental and the beginnings of it all have their roots in Sawdust Road. I might have been born in a hovel, but I determined to travel with the wind and stars.

After about 30 minutes I puked all over my airplane. To invent an airplane is nothing. To build one is something.

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To fly is everything. It is not the visions but the activity which makes you happy, and the joy and glory of the flier is the flight itself… Every time I have gone up in an aeroplane and looked down have realized I was free of the ground, I have had the consciousness of a new discovery. And now I understand everything. You will begin to touch heaven, Jonathan, in the moment you touch the perfect speed. And that isn't flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, of flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfect speed, my son, is being there.

Professor Focke and his technicians standing below grew ever smaller as I continued to rise straight up, 50 metres, 75 metres, metres. Then I gently began to throttle back and the speed of ascent dwindled till I was hovering motionless in midair. This was intoxicating! I thought of the lark, so light and small of wing, hovering over the summer fields.

Now man had wrested from him his lovely secret. Everyone asks me 'how it feels to fly. That this tiny two-seater box of metal managed to rise into the air at all felt unbelievable. Once we broke ground, it seemed as if I were floating on a magic carpet. The lightness and height made me tingle in somewhat the same way I feel aroused before making love. When I took over the controls, I felt as if I were at the center of my universe instead of orbiting someone else's. I felt then, and still believe now, that piloting a small aircraft is about as good as it gets. Daisy is Richard's Cessna This is not that other Sir Walter Raleigh, who was beheaded nearly three hundred years earlier.

This is all about fun. You can grab ahold of an airplane here, and literally take your life in both hands. One for the throttle and one for the stick, and you can control your own destiny, free of most rules and regulations. It may not be better than sex, but it's definitely better than the second time. Adrenaline is a narcotic; it may be a naturally induced narcotic, but it is a narcotic. And once you get it movin' around in there, it's a rush like none other, and when this puppy gets movin…. He rode upon a cherub, and did fly: yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind.

The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings. The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who, in their grueling travels across trackless lands in prehistoric times, looked enviously on the birds soaring freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the infinite highway of the air. Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement.

Not A before B, but all together. We contrive to make the invisible air support us, we relinquish the security of feet on the ground because flying is demanding, delightful, beautiful: because we love it. Very few of us are actually crazy, and nearly all of us manage the risks as well as we can, but we all willingly trade some of our security for the immeasurable beauty of the sky.

No bird ever flew nonstop from New York to Tokyo, or raced 15 miles high at triple the speed of sound. But birds do something else. They do not conquer the air; they romance it. Sometimes I feel a strange exhilaration up here which seems to come from something beyond the mere stimulus of flying. It is a feeling of belonging to the sky, of owning and being owned — if only for a moment - by the air I breathe. It is akin to the well known claim of the swallow: each bird staking out his personal bug-strewn slice of heaven, his inviolate property of the blue.

Splutter, splutter. But why start off with an engine like that? But it smooths out now, like a long sigh, like a person breathing easily, freely. Like someone singing ecstatically, climbing, soaring - sustained note of power and joy. We turn from the lights of the city; we pivot on a dark wing; we roar over the earth. The plane seems exultant now, even arrogant.

We did it, we did it! We were dependant on you just now, prisoners fawning on you for favors, for wind and light. But now, we are free. We are up; we are off. We can toss you aside, for we are above it. I had never cared about flying, and in fact had only once been up in the air; although I do a great deal of motor-boat and car racing, I had always been afraid of flying. I used to tell my friends that I should never fly and that sometimes I even hated butterflies, or anything with wings, and that it actually made me dizzy to look at my own foot.

That was my outlook so far as flying was concerned until this day when I spied the little machine in that shop window. Every flyer who ventures across oceans to distant lands is a potential explorer; in his or her breast burns the same fire that urged the adventurers of old to set forth in their sailing-ships for foreign lands. Riding through the air on silver wings instead of sailing the seas with white wings, he must steer his own course, for the air is uncharted, and he must therefore explore for himself the strange eddies and currents of the ever-changing sky in its many moods.

Travelers are always discoverers, especially those who travel by air. There are no signposts in the air to show a man has passed that way before. There are no channels marked. The flier breaks each second into new uncharted seas. I have lifted my plane … for perhaps a thousand flights and I have never felt her wheels glide from the Earth into the air without knowing the uncertainty and the exhilaration of first-born adventure. It won't get you a better job, a faster car, or a bigger house. But if you treat it with respect and keep your eyes open, it may remind you of some things you used to know — that life is in the moment, joy matters more than money, the world is a beautiful place, and that dreams really, truly are possible.

It will free man from the remaining chains, the chains of gravity which still tie him to this planet. It will open to him the gates of heaven. What is it that makes a man willing to sit up on top of an enormous Roman candle, such as a Redstone, Atlas, Titan or Saturn rocket, and wait for someone to light the fuse? It was quite a day. I don't know what you can say about a day when you see four beautiful sunsets…. This is a little unusual, I think. As you pass from sunlight into darkness and back again every hour and a half, you become startlingly aware how artificial are thousands of boundaries we've created to separate and define.

And for the first time in your life you feel in your gut the precious unity of the Earth and all the living things it supports. Father, we thank you, especially for letting me fly this flight — for the privilege of being able to be in this position, to be in this wondrous place, seeing all these many startling, wonderful things that you have created.

Today gives us a chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars. For my part I know nothing with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes me dream. The stars are the apexes of what wonderful triangles! What distant and different beings in the various mansions of the universe are contemplating the same one at the same moment! Do there exist many worlds, or is there but a single world? This is one of the most noble and exalted questions in the study of Nature.

For everyone … must see that astronomy compels the soul to look upwards and leads us from this world to another. Many discoveries are reserved for ages still to come …. Our universe is a sorry little affair unless it has in it something for every age to investigate. In the press grandstand where I watched Discovery rise against the cloudless sky, the media hit the abort button on cynicism.

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The Earth shook to the sounds of man, three miles away. The candle lit… only someone stripped of awe can leave a launch untouched. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.

Nothing ever built arose to touch the skies unless some man dreamed that it should, some man believed that it could, and some man willed that it must. To most people, the sky is the limit. To those who love aviation, the sky is home. If you are a woman, and are coming to the flying field seeking stimulation, excitement and flattery, you had better stay away until flying is a little bit safer.

If you are thinking that flying will develop character; will teach you to be orderly, well-balanced; will give you an increasingly wider outlook; discipline you, and destroy vanity and pride; enable you to control yourself more and more under all conditions; to think less of yourself and your personal problems, and more of sublimity and everlasting peace that dwell serene in the heavens - if you seek these latter qualities, and think on them exclusively, why - FLY!

I learned to watch, to put my trust in other hands than mine. I learned to wander. I learned what every dreaming child needs to know — that no horizon is so far that you cannot get above it or beyond it. These I learned at once. But most things come harder. What happiness this is: to fly, skimming over the earth just as we do in our dreams! Life has become a dream. Can this be the meaning of paradise? Anyone who's not interested in model airplanes must have a screw loose somewhere. But to fly is just like swimming. You do not forget easily. I have been on the ground for more than ten years.

If I close my eyes, however, I can again feel the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, the rudder bar beneath my feet. I can sense the freedom and the cleanliness and all the things which a pilot knows. Japan's greatest living ace with 64 kills, who was banned from flying at the end of W. From the foreword to Samurai! How do you know but ev'ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos'd by your senses five? Anyone who has spent any time in space will love it for the rest of their lives.

I achieved my childhood dream of the sky. Whether outwardly or inwardly, whether in space or time, the farther we penetrate the unknown, the vaster and more marvelous it becomes. Lindbergh, Autobiography of Values. How detached the intimate things around me seem from the great world down below. How strange is this combination of proximity and separation. That ground — seconds away — thousands of miles away. This air, stirring mildly around me. That air, rushing by with the speed of a tornado, an inch beyond. These minute details in my cockpit. The grandeur of the world outside.

The nearness of death. The longness of life. Lindbergh, ' The Spirit of St. A small machine is ideal for short flights, joy riding the heavens, or sight seeing among the clouds; but there is something more majestic and stable about the big bombers which a pilot begins to love. An exquisite community grows up between machine and pilot; each, as it were, merges into the other.

The machine is rudimentary and the pilot the intellectual force. The levers and controls are the nervous system of the machine, through which the will of the pilot may be expressed-and expressed to an infinitely fine degree. A flying-machine is something entirely apart from and above all other contrivances of man's ingenuity. The aeroplane is the nearest thing to animate life that man has created. In the air a machine ceases indeed to be a mere piece of mechanism; it becomes animate and is capable not only of primary guidance and control, but actually of expressing a pilot's temperament. We who fly do so for the love of flying.

We are alive in the air with this miracle that lies in our hands and beneath our feet. Flying alone! Nothing gives such a sense of mastery over time over mechanism, mastery indeed over space, time, and life itself, as this. It is a huge thrill. That's really what it's like. BBC Interview 23 April It was a cherished experience. I feel I got the chance to see the inner workings of the grand order of things.

In the overall scheme of things, it proves that men can do about anything they want to if they work hard enough at it, and I knew that I could do it … and that leads, of course, to a strong suspicion that everybody else can do it if they want to. This was the crystalline moment Dan loved so well, the moment of transition between ground and air, when the laws of aerodynamics took over the job of physical support of the jet. He'd become a pilot for this very moment: the feel of mighty engines and the roar of the slipstream, all converging on the reality of sustained flight on an invisible highway of air.

Flying was a thrill in even a single-engine airplane, but to levitate a leviathan — a metallic eggshell longer than a football field and heavier than a house — was a magic he could never quite comprehend. Every liftoff was a philosophical wonder that left a broad smile on his face. Nance, Blackout , 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?

Pilots are a rare kind of human. They leave the ordinary surface of the word, to purify their soul in the sky, and they come down to earth, only after receiving the communion of the infinite. Until now I have never really lived! Life on earth is a creeping, crawling business.

It is in the air that one feels the glory of being a man and of conquering the elements. Octopus 3. Oryx 1. Otters 1. Panthers 2.

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