Water and air, the two essential fluids on which all life depends, have become global garbage cans.
In order to save the planet it would be necessary to kill 350,000 people per day.
I experimented with all possible maneuvers-loops, somersaults and barrel rolls. I stood upside down on one finger and burst out laughing, a shrill, distorted laugh. Nothing I did altered the automatic rhythm of the air. Delivered from gravity and buoyancy, I flew around in space.
In order to stabilize world population, we must eliminate 350,000 per day.
The sea is not a bargain basement.
Population growth is the primary source of environmental damage.
The awareness of our environment came progressively in all countries with different outlets.
Through the window of my mask I see a wall of coral, its surface a living kaleidoscope of lilac flecks, splashes of gold, reddish streaks and yellows, all tinged by the familiar transparent blue of the sea.
There was wildlife, untouched, a jungle at the border of the sea, never seen by those who floated on the opaque roof. Describing his early experience, in 1936, when a fellow naval officer, Philippe Tailliez, gave him goggles to see below the Mediterranean Sea surface.
Buoyed by water, he can fly in any direction-up, down, sideways-by merely flipping his hand. Under water, man becomes an archangel.
The biggest obstacle was mixing abortion with overpopulation. These are two things that have nothing to do with each other.
To restate an old law – when a man bites a fish, that’s good, but when a fish bites a man, that’s bad. This is one way of saying it’s all right if man kills an animal, but if an animal attacks man, the act is reprehensible.
Under water, man becomes an archangel.
In the deep space of the sea I have found my moon.
It’s terrible to have to say this. World population must be stabilized and to do that we must eliminate 350,000 people per day. This is so horrible to contemplate that we shouldn’t even say it. But the general situation in which we are involved is lamentable.
May this continent, the last explored by humankind, be the first one to be spared by humankind.
Every explorer I have met has been driven – not coincidentally but quintessentially – by curiosity, by a single-minded, insatiable, and even jubilant need to know.
Some of these islanders dutifully recited for us their ancient law: “Take no more from the sea in one day than there are people in your village. If you observe this rule, the bonito will run well again tomorrow.
Human beings had polluted the seawater and mechanically destroyed the nearby coast; all life had paid this price. Often, in airports, on sidewalks, at restaurants, children and adults alike stop me to ask about barracuda and sharks; killer whales; the deadly sorcery of the Bermuda Triangle; the Loch Ness Monster. When I saw Le Veyron, I believed that the sea’s most monstrous force doesn’t live in Loch Ness. It lives in us.
To enlarge the human perspective, to build on knowledge for future generations, to identify dangers, and to chart the course to a better world: If these are the goals of the explorer, then everyone – voyager, scientist and citizen, parent and child – is engaged in humanity’s momentous expedition.
We only protect what we love, we only love what we understand, and we only understand what we are taught.