Best 764 quotes in «flying quotes» category

You might be a redneck if the antenna on your truck is a danger to low flying airplanes.

You're out on stage, the music is blaring, the crowd is screaming, the lights are flashing, your heart is pumping, the sweat is flying, and it's the greatest feeling in the whole world.

Your flag flyin' over the courthouse Means certain things are set in stone. Who we are, what we'll do and what we won't

You see, she was gonna be an actress and I was gonna learn to fly. She took off to find the footlights, and I took off for the sky. And here, she's acting happy, inside her handsome home. And me, I'm flying in my taxi, taking tips, and getting stoned. I go flying so high, when I'm stoned.

A bird must have faith in its wings in order to fly.

A bird is born knowing how to fly, but has to learn to conquer the skies.

A bird, unable to fly, is still a bird; but a human unable to love is an inexpensive stone: like a piece of uric acid stone

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

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

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

A man swallowed a bird every day but still couldn't fly.

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

All right boys, let’s sail away! Show those bastards how airship pirates fly a ship!

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.

And back up they would go, not knowing where or when they would be able to land again.

A person with low standards will forever be walking. A person with high standard will soon stop walking and start running. Later, they’ll soon stop running and start galloping. The next time you see him, he’s either flying or soaring.

And then eventually you wake up, fully rested, ready to fly again :)

And the voice spoke even more deliberately: '...but remember what is under the ocean of clouds: eternity.' And suddenly that tranquil world, the world of such simple harmony that you discover as you rise above the clouds, took on an unfamiliar quality in my eyes. All that gentleness became a trap. In my mind's eye I saw that vast white trap laid out, right under my feet. Beneath it reigned neither the restlessness of men nor the living tumult and motion of cities, as one might have thought, but a silence that was even more absolute, a more final peace. That viscous whiteness was turning before my eyes into the boundary between the real and the unreal, between the known and the unknowable. And I was already beginning to sense that a spectacle has no meaning except when seen through a culture, a civilization, a professional craft.

An eagle does not crawl because it was born to fly.

A portion of life, every moment gets torn out of me hurting, and flees away.

Are you finally starting to breathe in a normal fashion?” Shahrzad teased. “I must confess I find your behavior rather odd, considering you said only a child would be afraid to fly.” “I wasn’t afraid.” Khalid wrapped a forearm of corded muscle around her. She slanted a disbelieving look his way. “You just lied to me.” “I wasn’t afraid,” he repeated. “I was terrified.

As one veteran Russian pilot dryly told me:"We have to be very careful flying in the clouds. Around here they are full of rocks.

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

At last the magic caught, and she managed to vault clumsily onto it before it trundled into the night sky as gracefully as a duck with one wing missing.

As time passed and Harry flew and flew and flew, he forgot all about the fog, the city below him, and just about everything. Nothing in the world seemed to matter but wings, and sky, and motion. The free and endless kind of motion that people are always looking for in a hundred different ways. Flying was the way a swing swoops up; and the glide down a slide. It was the shoot of a sled downhill without the long climb back up. It was the very best throat-tightening thrills of skis, skates, surfboards and trampolines. Diving boards, merry-go-rounds, Ferris wheels, .roller coasters, skate boards and soap-box coasters. It was all of them, one after the other, all at once and a thousand times over.

At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing in the South Station And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of aviation.

At the edge of the pit, she launches herself into the air: Jane of the Jungle, the Human Volleyball, Centrifugal Force Girl. For four seconds, she flies. And of those four seconds, she only screams in terror for three.

Awestruck, Flora stared at the dishevelled sisters with their blazing faces and radiant ragged wings, who smelled of no kin but the wild high air.

Before flying high, first, look towards your flaws and clean up, so that your validity is not in the doubts, because, then you are visible to everyone.

But then a bumblebee bumbled above us and it stole our attention the way flying things can.

Believe in people, they fly for a day. Teach them to believe in themselves, they soar for a lifetime.

Be you, be yourself, be happy again. Don’t let life pass by you. Don’t look back, look into the bright future. The future is as bright as the promise of God. Smile – it’s the most beautiful attire.

But—but in falling, we fly, don’t we? We fly vertically. That’s the paradox of vertical flight. Falling is the only way we can fly.

Along some northern coast at sundown a beaten gold light is waterborne, sweeping across lakes and tracing zigzag rivers to the sea, and we know we're in transit again, half numb to the secluded beauty down there, the slate land we're leaving behind, the peneplain, to cross these rainbands in deep night. This is time totally lost to us. We don't remember it. We take no sense impressions with us, no voices, none of the windy blast of the aircraft on the tarmac, or the white noise of flight, or the hours waiting. Nothing sticks to us but smoke in our hair and clothes. It is dead time. It never happened until it happens again. Then it never happened.

But the dream is over. He has no one to fly to now. He is among strangers, and his memories would only be a murmur in a darkened room lit by one, snuffing candle.

Climbing is as close as we can come to flying.

Clouds are high flying Fog

David was holding Mona steady. I hoped he also had a little attention to spare to keep us unnoticed from the ground; seeing a Dodge Viper do a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in the desert sky might be a little hard to explain, even for UFO nuts.

Dragons love to fly at the expanding edge of your world.

Easy does it, boys. I just need help standing, not flying.

Finally I came to think that may be everything we need to know,ever,about anything,is already within us,waiting till we call for it.

Finn said, “You feel the wind is a bully, beating you. But that is your seeing. That is your story, not the wind’s. To a bird who rides it, that wind is only a kind hand. Because the bird rides the wind’s power. Do you understand?” Clare, bitter, cold, and wind-battered, frowned stubbornly. “But a bird can fly. I can’t fly.” He turned to look at her, and his face was troubled. “If you cling to the safety of the rock, indeed you can’t. To fly, you open your arms and fall, heart first, trusting the wind to bear you up. That’s what the birds do.

Flying high with WiFi in the sky.

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.

Flying, with your love, shining, with your love, riding, with your love. I feel like I'm on top of the world with your love.

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.

Flying is not only the art of the birds, but it is also the art of the artists!

For all the jokes and complaints about the aches of air travel, it's pretty marvelous, if you think about it.

For my soul lies dormant, restless, waiting for that moment when shackles are cast aside and it is free to fly once more.

God and Destiny are not against us, rather they are for us, they are the ones who never forget the things we have long forgotten, the ones who hear the desires of our heart that our own heads can't hear, and they are the ones who never forget who we really are, long after our minds have forgotten the images of who we are. We come from God and we belong to Destiny, yet for some reason of ignorance we think that to be the master of our own fates and the captain of our own souls means to write everything down on a paper and plan everything out on a grid! Such great things to be done, and we think they are accomplished by our primitive ways! No. We must only know what we want. And want what we want. And then fly high enough to see all that which we want that we couldn't yet see.