Going Solo Quotes

“I was already beginning to realize that the only way to conduct oneself in a situation where bombs rained down and bullets whizzed past, was to accept the dangers and all the consequences as calmly as possible. Fretting and sweating about it all was not going to help.”
― Dahl Roald, Going Solo

“What a fortunate fellow I am, I kept telling myself. Nobody has ever had such a lovely time as this!”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“A life is made up of a great number of small incidents and a small number of great ones.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“Mary Welland was certainly lovely. She was gentle and kind. She remained my friend all the time I was in hospital. But there is a world of difference falling in love with a voice and remaining in love with a person you can see. From the moment I opened my eyes, Mary became a human instead of a dream and my passion evaporated.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“You seem surprised to find us here,’ the man said.
‘I am,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t expecting to find anyone.’
‘We are everywhere,’ the man said. ‘We are all over the country.’
‘Forgive me,’ I said, ‘but I don’t understand. Who do you mean by we?’
‘Jewish refugees.’
[...]
‘Is this your land?’ I asked him.
‘Not yet,’ he said.
‘You mean you are hoping to buy it?’
He looked at me in silence for a while. Then he said, ‘The land is at present owned by a Palestinian farmer but he has given us permission to live here. He has also allowed us some fields so that we can grow our own food.’
‘So where do you go from here?’ I asked him. ‘You and all your orphans?’
‘We don’t go anywhere,’ he said, smiling through his black beard. ‘We stay here.’
‘Then you will all become Palestinians,’ I said. ‘Or perhaps you are that already.’
He smiled again, presumably at the naïvety of my questions.
‘No,’ the man said, ‘I do not think we will become Palestinians.’
‘Then what will you do?’
‘You are a young man who is flying aeroplanes,’ he said, ‘and I do not expect you to understand our problems.’
‘What problems?’ I asked him. The young woman put two mugs of coffee on the table as well as a tin of condensed milk that had two holes punctured in the top. The man dripped some milk from the tin into my mug and stirred it for me with the only spoon. He did the same for his own coffee and then took a sip.
‘You have a country to live in and it is called England,’ he said. ‘Therefore you have no problems.’
‘No problems!’ I cried. ‘England is fighting for her life all by herself against virtually the whole of Europe! We’re even fighting the Vichy French and that’s why we’re in Palestine right now! Oh, we’ve got problems all right!’ I was getting rather worked up. I resented the fact that this man sitting in his fig grove said that I had no problems when I was getting shot at every day. ‘I’ve got problems myself’, I said, ‘in just trying to stay alive.’
‘That is a very small problem,’ the man said. ‘Ours is much bigger.’
I was flabbergasted by what he was saying. He didn’t seem to care one bit about the war we were fighting. He appeared to be totally absorbed in something he called ‘his problem’ and I couldn’t for the life of me make it out. ‘Don’t you care whether we beat Hitler or not?’ I asked him.
‘Of course I care. It is essential that Hitler be defeated. But that is only a matter of months and years. Historically, it will be a very short battle. Also it happens to be England’s battle. It is not mine. My battle is one that has been going on since the time of Christ.’
‘I am not with you at all,’ I said. I was beginning to wonder whether he was some sort of a nut. He seemed to have a war of his own going on which was quite different to ours.
I still have a very clear picture of the inside of that hut and of the bearded man with the bright fiery eyes who kept talking to me in riddles. ‘We need a homeland,’ the man was saying. ‘We need a country of our own. Even the Zulus have Zululand. But we have nothing.’
‘You mean the Jews have no country?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ he said. ‘It’s time we had one.’
‘But how in the world are you going to get yourselves a country?’ I asked him. ‘They are all occupied. Norway belongs to the Norwegians and Nicaragua belongs to the Nicaraguans. It’s the same all over.’
‘We shall see,’ the man said, sipping his coffee. The dark-haired woman was washing up some plates in a basin of water on another small table and she had her back to us.
‘You could have Germany,’ I said brightly. ‘When we have beaten Hitler then perhaps England would give you Germany.’
‘We don’t want Germany,’ the man said.
‘Then which country did you have in mind?’ I asked him, displaying more ignorance than ever.
‘If you want something badly enough,’ he said, ‘and if you need something badly enough, you can always get it.’ [...]‘You have a lot to learn,’ he said. ‘But you are a good boy. You are fighting for freedom. So am I.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“Their skin hung loose over their bodies like suits they had inherited from larger ancestors, with the trousers ridiculously baggy.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“The Greeks have a trick of disguising a poor quality wine by adding pine resin to it, the idea being that the taste of the resin is not quite so appalling as the taste of the wine. We drank retsina because that was all there was.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo: The Centenary Collection

“What’s your name?’ ‘Pilot Officer Dahl, sir.’ ‘Very well, Dahl,’ he said, weighing the package up and down in one hand. ‘This is on no account to fall into enemy hands. Guard it with your life. Do I make myself clear?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ I said, feeling important.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“We used often to see a big one gliding across the dirt road ahead of the car, and the golden rule was never to accelerate and try to run it over, especially if the roof of the car was open, as ours often was. If you hit a snake at speed, the front wheel can flip it up into the air and there is a danger of it landing in your lap. I can think of nothing worse than that. The really bad snake in Tanganyika is the black mamba. It is the only one that has no fear of man and will deliberately attack him on sight. If it bites you, you are a gonner.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“Robert Sanford just stood there gaping at the cook’s wife. So, for that matter, did I. ‘Are you absolutely sure the simba didn’t hurt you?’ he asked her. ‘Did not his teeth go into your body?’ ‘No, bwana,’ the woman said, laughing. ‘He carried me as gently as if I had been one of his own cubs. But now I shall have to wash my dress.’ We walked slowly back to the group of astonished onlookers. ‘Tonight’, Robert Sanford said, addressing them all, ‘nobody is to go far from the house, you understand me?’ ‘Yes, bwana,’ they said. ‘Yes, yes, we understand you.’ ‘That old simba is hiding over there in the wood and he may come back,’ Robert Sanford said. ‘So be very careful. And Pingo, please continue to cook our dinner. I am getting hungry.’ The cook ran into the kitchen, clapping his hands and leaping for joy. We walked over to where Mary Sanford was standing. She had come”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“A life is made up of a great number of small incidents and a small number of great incidents”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo

“Me había convertido en el orgulloso poseedor de un Morris Oxford cerrado, modelo 1932, de nueve años de antigüedad, un vehículo cuya carrocería había sido rociada con una pestilente pintura marrón, del color de las heces de un perro, y cuya máxima velocidad en una carretera recta y lisa era treinta y cinco millas por hora. El Mando de Cazas accedió a regañadientes a mi solicitud. Había un ferry que cruzaba el Canal de Suez por Ismailía. Era una balsa de madera, que se arrastraba de una orilla a otra por medio de unos cables, y conduje el coche hasta allí, de donde lo pasaron a la orilla del Sinaí. Pero, antes de que me autorizaran a iniciar el largo y solitario viaje a través del desierto de Sinaí, tuve que mostrarle a las autoridades que llevaba conmigo cinco galones de más de petróleo y un depósito de cinco galones de agua para beber. Luego emprendí el camino. Me encantó el viaje. Creo que me encantó porque era la primera vez en mi vida que había estado un día entero y una noche sin ver ningún ser humano. Poca gente lo ha hecho. Había una carretera estrecha de suelo duro que se extendía sobre las blandas arenas del desierto, desde el Canal hasta Beersheba, en la frontera de Palestina. La distancia total a través del desierto era de doscientas millas y no había ningún pueblo, ninguna cabaña, ningún puesto, ni ningún signo de vida humana en todo el trayecto. Mientras recorría aquella tierra estéril y despoblada, me pregunté cuántas horas o días tendría que aguardar para que pasara otro viajero que pudiera ayudarme en el caso de que se estropeara mi viejo coche. Pronto lo iba a descubrir. Llevaba viajando unas cinco horas cuando el radiador se puso a hervir por el terrible calor de las primeras horas de la tarde. Me detuve, abrí el capó y esperé a que se enfriara el radiador. Al cabo de una hora o así pude quitar el tapón del radiador y echarle un poco de agua, pero comprendí que sería inútil volver a conducir con el calor que hacía a pleno sol, porque el agua empezaría a hervir de nuevo. «Tengo que esperar», me dije, «hasta que se oculte el sol». Pero también sabía que no debía conducir de noche, porque las luces no funcionaban y, ciertamente, no quería correr el riesgo de salirme de la estrecha y dura carretera de noche y quedar atascado en la arena. Era un problema y la única forma de salir de él que se me ocurría consistía en esperar hasta el amanecer y hacer un esfuerzo para llegar a Beersheba antes de que el sol empezara a asar de nuevo el motor. Había llevado conmigo una gran sandía, para casos de emergencia, y corté una raja; separé de ella las pepitas negras con la punta de un cuchillo y me comí la rosada y fresca fruta, de pie junto al coche, al sol.”
― Roald Dahl, Volando solo

“¿Es otro campo de aterrizaje secreto?”
― Roald Dahl, Volando solo

“In a world where war was all around me and where I had ridden in dangerous little aeroplanes that roared and zoomed and crashed and caught fire, blindness, not to mention life itself, was no longer too important. Survival was not something one struggled for any more. I was already beginning to realize that the only way to conduct oneself in a situation where bombs rained down and bullets whizzed past, was to accept the dangers and all the consequences as calmly as possible. Fretting and sweating about it all was not going to help.”
― Roald Dahl, Going Solo