“The colossus of World War II seemed to be like a pyramid turned upside down”

Only in this way can the eager and skillful fighter pilot display his ability.

Aggressive spirit, joy of action, and the passion of the hunter.

I first knew of the existence of this aircraft only early in ‘42 – even in my position.

The German Luftwaffe always fought without any reserves.

To be successful, the best fighter pilot needs both.

And for the moment the whole burden of the war rested on the few hundred German fighter pilots on the Channel coast.

Or by bad luck can suffer from frustration or develop complexes they may never rid themselves of again.

We couldn’t stand it. Not in the airplanes of World War II.

Which in the long run comes only to the one who combines daring with cool thinking.

The war was lost perhaps, when it was started. At least it was lost in the winter of ’42, in Russia.

That day we could have stopped the American daytime bombing offensive, that’s for sure.

You could smell them because of the oil they were burning.

I was to give proof that this jet was a superior fighter.

Accompanied by a whistling sound, my jet shot through the air.

I made a written report which is still today in existence.

Superior technical achievements – used correctly both strategically and tactically

I’m proud to say like many of my colleagues in the Conservative Party I am fully behind Theresa May’s Brexit plans.

I understand that, because there are so many musicians, you have to make artists into brands, but I sometimes feel like I have to be some kind of non-human icon in order for people to listen to my music.

We lose the magic whenever we stop telling our story and begin to wonder how we’re doing, if we’re selling it, if the listener likes us.

I really don’t like the gym. I like experiences, so I take any chance I get to go on a bicycle or on a hike.

What would you be like if you were the only person in the world? If you want to be truly happy you must be that person.

I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

I don’t like peas, and I’m glad I don’t like them, because if I liked them I would eat them and I hate them.