Flying Quotes

There is a trick to flying. The angels told me." He had smiled at my wide-eyed awe. "You need to forget everything you know as a human being. When you are human, you discover that there is great power in hating the earth. And it can almost make you fly. But it never will."I had frowned, not quite understanding him. "So, what's the trick?""Love the sky.

A good quote is a beautiful bird! Wherever you meet with it, you will start flying with it!

My airplane is quiet, and for a moment still an alien, still a stranger to the ground, I am home.

Ah, my wee sprite." He released the lock of hair and leaned closer. "If learning to fly is your desire, then fly you shall.

Thank God men cannot fly, and lay waste the sky as well as the earth.

There is no such thing as magic," she told me. "You can b e l i e v e all you want, but it's never going to do you any good. Nobody flies. We only fall

Wings are like dreams. Before each flight, a bird takes a small jump, a leap of faith, believing that its wings will work. That jump can only be made with rock solid feet.

I have come to accept the feeling of not knowing where I am going. And I have trained myself to love it. Because it is only when we are suspended in mid-air with no landing in sight, that we force our wings to unravel and alas begin our flight. And as we fly, we still may not know where we are going to. But the miracle is in the unfolding of the wings. You may not know where you're going, but you know that so long as you spread your wings, the winds will carry you.

If your thoughts are as tall as the height of your ceiling, you can’t fly above your room.

Her words are her wings. She's flying.

He had his eyes closed androcked himself so much that everyone thought he wouldsoon crash to the ground. And then it happened. Hecrashed to the ground. Surprised, he lay on the groundon his side, not sure what had happened, looking around.Next he jumped up and listened to Matica’s singing again,starting to rock himself once more. His eyes closed slowly,his beak opened. And then he crashed to the ground a secondtime. This time he kept lying down, spreading his freewing up into the air and waving it to the tune of the melody.Strange sounds came out of his beak. It was a gruntbut more than a grunt, as if he was really enjoying himself,as if he would follow Matica’s words and would singor hum as well.

[His eyes are] Atlantic Ocean blue, just like he'd said. It's strange because of course I'd known that. But the difference between knowing it and seeing them in person is the difference between dreaming of flying and flight.

Fang swerved closer to me, big and supremely graceful, like a black panther with wings. Oh, God. I'm so stupid. Forget I just said that. "He needs a Band-Aid," I said. A look passed between me and Fang, full of suppressed humor, relief, understanding,love — Forget I said that too. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Sometimes to change a situation you are in requires you to take a giant leap. But, you won't be able to fly unless you are willing to transform.

When I was a boy, that was all I wanted—to grow a pair of wings and get up into the sky. I had a basement full of failed wing projects. Boards and capes and motors, even a pile of found feathers I once tried to glue together with a bottle of Elmer’s; you should have seen your grandmother’s face. But I never got any higher than the backyard fence I’d launch from. I never got inside a cloud. Your raven did.

Pain is a pesky part of being human, I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without, in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out of our backs, but healing is the closest thing that will give us that wind against our faces.

You ask me if you can eat dinner in your room, but you don’task me if you can torture Éibhear to take you flying?”Truly perplexed, Izzy asked softly, “Why would I ask you that?

The plane was on descent. Reacher could feel it in his ears. And he could feel abrupt turns. The pilot was military, so he was using the rudder. Civilian pilots avoid using the rudder. Using the rudder makes the plane slew, like a car skids. Passengers don't like the feeling. So civilian pilots turn by juicing the engines on one side and backing off on the others. Then the plane comes around smoothly. But military pilots don't care about their passengers' comfort. It's not like they've bought tickets.

The future is as blank as a plane sheet if you don't have an eagle's eye, that's why you should climb to a vantage point to get a good perspective view at your future.

Every time he tries to fly high, but his memories always hold his broken wings.

Still, some nights I grieved. I grieved as much at what I knew must be the fleeting nature of my present happiness as any loss, any past. We lived on some edge, if we ever lived on a rolling plain. Who knew what attack, what illness. That doubleness again. Like flying: the stillness and speed, serenity and danger.

Q: You'er presented with a smooth-faced, eight-foot-high wooden wall. Your objective? Get over it. To, like, save comrades or something. How to accomplish this?A: Take a running start, brace one foot against the wall, throw one hand to the top, try to hang on long enough for a comrade to either grab your hand at the top or for another comrade to push your butt up from below. It takes team work! over it.

He felt like a baked bean in a can, soaring through the air on a downward turn of a parabolic arc...

Peter was not with them for the moment, and they felt rather lonely up there by themselves. He could go so much faster than they that he would suddenly shoot out of sight, to have some adventure in which they had no share. He would come down laughing over something fearfully funny he had been saying to a star, but he had already forgotten what it was, or he would come up with mermaid scales still sticking to him, and yet not be able to to say for certain what had been happening. It was really rather irritating to children who had never seen a mermaid.

I fly through memory to find a newborn love.

The TSA must think we're mushrooms. You know, the way they are trying to keep us in the dark, and the way they keep feeding us a fertilizing agent that comes from the south end of a north-bound cow.

We were at sixty thousand feet. You’re thirty percent lighter upthere.

I had a dream about you last night... I think flying saucer activity is pretty easy to explain; if I had one, I'd go joyriding too.

Some people are so much heaven to the square inch that life is simply hell, when she leaves you in order to go south for the winter. (Yes, women are people too, sometimes even threee.)

When a flight is proceeding incredibly well, something was forgotten.

She was bruised from crashing so many times, but she hadn’t lost her hunger for flight.

Lovers are the best birds in the world when they know how to fly higher...

It is just my imagination that flies,While she is wrapped up in her bedsheetslike a nest.

Flying in his dreams was an exhilarating, breathtaking experience, sometimes literally, that tended to leave reality wanting, like riding a roller coaster compared to mowing the lawn.

Ancients pulled metals more precious than gold from the center of the earth - They spun into giant lacy wings that flew them to the stars and back "Is that what you'd do with wings?"She shook her head "No, I'd fly to the stars, but I'd never come back

Some might claim that like the secret of flying is missing the ground, the secret to immortality is simply not dying.

Grace is what picks me up and lifts my wings high above and I fly! Grace always conquers! Be graceful in everything; in anger, in sadness, in joy, in kindness, in unkindness, retain grace with you!

A butterfly is a caterpillar which refused to give up its dreams to fly.

I adore the sky wearing rainbow shawl of love for the birds so that they could fly free in warmth after the storm

It was a flight, a kind of fleeing, a kind of falling, falling higher and higher, spinning off the edge of the earth and beyond the sun and through the vast silent vacuum where there were no burdens and where everything weighed exactly nothing.

When I was little and running on the race track at school, I always stopped and waited for all the other kids so we could run together even though I knew (and everybody else knew) that I could run much faster than all of them! I pretended to read slowly so I could "wait" for everyone else who couldn't read as fast as I could! When my friends were short I pretended that I was short too and if my friend was sad I pretended to be unhappy. I could go on and on about all the ways I have limited myself, my whole life, by "waiting" for people. And the only thing that I've ever received in return is people thinking that they are faster than me, people thinking that they can make me feel bad about myself just because I let them and people thinking that I have to do whatever they say I should do. My mother used to teach me "Cinderella is a perfect example to be" but I have learned that Cinderella can go fuck herself, I'm not waiting for anybody, anymore! I'm going to run as fast as I can, fly as high as I can, I am going to soar and if you want you can come with me! But I'm not waiting for you anymore.

You have terminated me,” one of them said in a strange, flat voice. “But Iam one of many.”“Robots!” Iggy breathed, taking Total from Angel.“One of many, one of many, one of many,” the robot Eraser was saying. NowNudge saw the red light in its eyes, saw how they were fading and winking out.“Good!” spat the Gasman, kicking it hard. “Because we like to blow stuff up,blow stuff up, blow stuff up!

You need your speace to strech your wings.You will learn in the due time to fly higher.

A butterfly is a caterpillar who never gave up on his dream to fly.

Any flights would be taken business class, since Roger thought that the whole point of having money, if it had to be summed up in a single point, which it couldn't, but if you had to, the whole point of having a bit of money was not to have to fly scum class.

Flights are expansive moments when the phone doesn't ring and the Internet doesn't work. The maxim that flying time is wasted time liberates me from my anxieties and guilt feelings, and it strips me of all ambitions, leaving room for a different sort of existence. A happy, idiotic existence, the kind that doesn't try to make the most of time but is satisfied with merely finding the most enjoyable way to spend it.

Don’t try to fly if you are worry about landing on the earth.

Flying in a modern jet airplane doses the human with levels of radiation comparable to those found in nuclear disaster zones.

I would recommend a solo flight to all prospective suicides. It tends to make clear the issue of whether one enjoys being alive or not.

My gad," one of them, warrant officer pilot, captain and M. C. in turn said to me once; "if you can treat a crate that way, why do you want to fly at all?

If I were to sit on the ocean floor and look toward the sky,I might see a whale or electric eel or octopus pass by.And if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open arms,I might feel the pleasure of ocean flight propel me ’mid their swarms.But if I were seated upon the shore and looking toward the stars,I might see a comet or falling star near Mercury or Mars.Then if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open hands,I might feel despair when my feet refused to leave the shoreline sand.And so I return to the ocean depths where swimming creatures fly,For there I can soar with the whales and fish that daily touch the sky.

Entering a cell, penetrating deep as a flying saucer to find a new galaxy would be an honorable task for a new scientist interested more in the inner state of the soul than in outer space.

I hate you!” I screamed at Fang. Tucking my wings in, I aimed downward,diving toward the ground at more than two hundred miles an hour.“No you dooonnn’t!” Fang’s voice spiraled away into nothingness, far aboveme.Inside my head, almost drowned out by the roar of wind rushing by my ears, Iheard the Voice make a tsking sound. You guys are crazy about each other, itsaid.

In the centre of Bond was a hurricane-room, the kind of citadel found in old-fashioned houses in the tropics. These rooms are small, strongly built cells in the heart of the house, in the middle of the ground floor and sometimes dug down into its foundations. To this cell the owner and his family retire if the storm threatens to destroy the house, and they stay there until the danger is past. Bond went to his hurricane room only when the situation was beyond his control and no other possible action could be taken. Now he retired to this citadel, closed his mind to the hell of noise and violent movement, and focused on a single stitch in the back of the seat in front of him, waiting with slackened nerves for whatever fate had decided for B. E. A. Flight No. 130.

An airplane crossed the sky, and she imagined its interior-people packed in rows like eggs in a carton, the chemical smell of the toilets, pretzels in foil pouches, cans hiss-popping open, black oval of night sky embedded in the rattling walls. How strange that something so drab, so confined, so stifling with sour exhalations and the fumes of indifferent machinery might be mistaken for a star.

Let's not grow with our roots in the ground.

Bluestar's coming on patrol? Watch out for flying hedgehogs!

The sky’s dangers offer the eagle more opportunities than the nest’s comfort.

A bird cannot fly upward if each wing is flapping in a different direction.

As she gobbled up the miles, big ravines appeared before her, their starving mouths open for the swallow.