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Für Mario zur Erinnerung:

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

John Gillespie Magee jr. (* 9. Juni 1922 † 11. Dezember 1941) – High Flight

In Fällen größerer Abweichungen ist es immer die Wirklichkeit, die sich geirrt hat.

Douglas Adams – Das Restaurant am Ende des Universums

High Flight

Oh! Ich bin den mürrischen Fesseln der Erde entschlüpft
Und tanzte durch den Himmel auf durch Lachen versilberten Flügeln.
Ich stieg der Sonne entgegen, und traf auf die taumelnde Freude
von durch die Sonne geteilten Wolken, – und habe hundert Dinge getan
von denen Du niemals geträumt hast – gerollt und aufgestiegen, empor geschwungen

Hoch in die sonnendurchflutete Stille.
Dort schwebend habe ich den schreienden Wind gejagt, und schleuderte
Meine begierige Maschine durch bodenlose Hallen aus Luft.
Hoch, hoch hinaus, entlang des wie wahnsinnig brennenden Blaus,
Habe ich die windgepeitschten Höhen mit einer Leichtigkeit des Seins überboten,
Wo niemals Lerchen noch jemals Adler flogen.
Und, während ich mit still erhabenem Gemüt
Die undurchdringliche Heiligkeit des Weltalls betrat,
Streckte ich meine Hand aus und berührte das Antlitz Gottes.

John Gillespie Magee jr. (* 9. Juni 1922 † 11. Dezember 1941) – High Flight

In der Wüste hatte ich eine Freiheit gefunden, die in der Zivilisation nicht zu erlangen ist …

Wilfried Thesiger (* 3. Juni 1910 † 24. August 2003) – Der Brunnen der Wüste

Take me, won’t you take me
Damned to man when I fell from the sky
My makers eyes, bring me alive
How can I kneel when my soul’s a liar
Take me inside, bring me alive
Eyes of my maker was I chose and why

Steven Edward Duren – Blackie Lawless (W.A.S.P., Eyes of my Maker, 2015)

Von Zeit zu Zeit braucht jeder Mensch ein Stück Wüste.

Sven Hedin (* 19.02.1865 † 26.11.1952)

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Consider again that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives.

The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every ‘superstar,’ every ‘supreme leader,’ every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there — on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity — in all this vastness — there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet.

Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.

Carl Sagan (* 09.11.1934 † 20.12.1996), in: Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space (1994)