My name is Brian Robeson and I am thirteen years old and I am alone in the north woods of Canada. All.
You never beat the game... You go in, take what you need, get out. Never stay too long and never, never try to whip the game. Stay there too long and they figure you out, start chewing at the corners on you, know your betting. Then maybe two, three of them get together and whipsaw you.
For those of you who wish to get a feel for it, get in the car and bring it up to fifty miles an hour and then stick your head and arms outside and, while driving, try to fold up a simple bath towel in the wind.
Then we knew he was lying.
The best joy and beauty are the kinds that are unplanned, and the same is true of painting or poetry. Don’t chew at it too much. It’s beautiful, and it makes you remember a beautiful part of your life and that’s enough.
And doing what is good for you is always the worst thing. Even if it works out all right in the end, it is the worst thing when it first happens – just the way things that seem good for you can turn out bad, bad as dirt.
How could he? The.
Brian had once had an English teacher, a guy named Perpich, who was always talking about being positive, thinking positive, staying on top of things.
Kind of like a pear, he had thought, with a point on one end and a fat little body; a flying pear.
Sometimes it would be nice if life just kept happening the way it’s happening, if things got to a good place and just stayed there, didn’t change.
There’s nothing wrong with bad habits... Where would we be without our bad habits? They’re what separates us from the dreary souls amongst us.
If you keep walking back from good luck, he thought, you’ll come to bad luck.
In measured time forty-seven days had passed since the crash. Forty-two days, he thought, since he had died and been born as the new Brian. When the plane had come and gone it had put him down, gutted him and dropped him and left him with nothing.
But there’s something really nice about spending time with a little kid. You learn so much.
Getting out of trouble is a whole lot more of a hassle than staying out of trouble.
He realized that he was not always right, was, indeed, often not right, and at the same time he found that others were not always wrong.
Just as bad things could snowball, Brian found that good things could come fast as well.
In measured time forty-seven days had passed since the crash. Forty-two days, he thought, since he had died and been born as the new Brian.
We each live in our own time... And we must do the best we can with our time. Those who came before weren’t as lucky as us and we aren’t as lucky as some who may come later. We must still live in our own time and do the best we can.
All of flying is easy. Just takes learning. Like everything else. Like everything else.