Kindle Notes & Highlights
The maps can't tell you the places you have to know, the ones that matter. That's what you discover on your own, flying on the good days and paying attention. If you're smart, you build your own map in Alaska. You build your own map-and you never forget it.
"I am saving him from fear," Riviere thought about one of his pilots. "I was not attacking him but, across him, that stubborn inertia which paralyzes men who face the unknown. If I listen and sympathize, if I take his adventure seriously, he will fancy he is returning from a land of mystery, and mystery alone is at the root of fear. We must do away with mystery."
"It would be something," he says, looking around at what he has left. He works in a cubicle now in a place where no one understands what it means to be captain; what it means to be pilot-in-command.
Barrow is cold, it's covered in snow; it's where the wind is born.