“Houston, Tranquillity Base here. The Eagle has landed.”

I think if there was anything I learned from our skipper was that it’s not how you look; it’s how you perform.

People love conspiracy theories.

Gliders, sail planes, they’re wonderful flying machines. It’s the closest you can come to being a bird.

I believe that the message of Apollo XI was that in the spirit of Apollo, a free and open spirit, you can attack a very difficult goal and achieve it, if you can all agree and work together to achieve that goal.

In much of society, research means to investigate something you do not know or understand.

A picture does a great job, but it’s not nearly like being there.

This blowing dust became increasingly thicker. It was very much like landing in a fast moving ground fog.

I only go in a small fraction of an inch, maybe an eighth of an inch, but I can see the footprints of my boots and the treads in the fine sandy particles.

You’ve got to expect things are going to go wrong. And we always need to prepare ourselves for handling the unexpected.

The regret on our side is, they used to say years ago, we are reading about you in science class. Now they say, we are reading about you in history class.

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn’t feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.

Geologists have a saying – rocks remember.

Space has not changed but technology has, in many cases, improved dramatically.

It’s a great thing for a man to walk on the moon. But it’s a greater thing for God to walk on the earth.

I tell you, we’re going to be busy for a minute.

Pilots take no special joy in walking: pilots like flying.

God is more eager to answer than we are to ask.

Shoot eagles on the Jack Nicklaus course, Porsche with the triple exhaust, Seats soft like a midget’s cough.

“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles

Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.–from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001

I was born by God’s dear grace, in an extraordinary place. Where the stars and stripes, and the eagle fly.

Remember, she’s an eagle when she flies!

When the eagles are silent, the parrots begin to jabber.