Best 764 quotes in «flying quotes» category

[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.

How wonderful it must be, I thought, to be able to just spread your wings whenever you like without someone following you around trying to swat you out of the sky.

Humans have better wings than birds: Human mind is a perfect wing and with this wing we can fly to some farthermost places no bird can ever dream! Yes, mind is a wing; and when it comes to flying man is the most sophisticated bird on earth!

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

Hush,” I said. “I’m here, and I’m not letting you out of my sight anytime soon so keep holding me tight.” I looked down, a little more than afraid of plummeting hundreds of feet down.- Breena to Kian, Silver Frost

I already fell—a little too hard if you ask me. Now it’s your turn.” “My turn for what?” “To say you love me so I can close my eyes and fall all the way.

I am no fan of plane travel. I have always been too skeptical of the physics of the phenomenon to ever be truly comfortable in an airplane.

I am falling, tumbling through the air, but this time the darkness is alive around me, full of beating things, and I realize that I'm not surrounded by dark but have only had my eyes closed all this time. I open them, feeling silly, and at the same time a hundred thousand butterlies take off around me, so many of them in so many brilliant colors they are like a solid rainbow, temporarily obscuring the sun. But as they wing higher and higher they reveal a landscape below us, all green and gold and sun-drenched fields and pink-tinged clouds drifting underneath me, and the air around me is clear and blue and sweet smelling, and I'm laughing, laughing, laughing as I spin through the air because, of course, I haven't been falling all the time. I've been flying.

I am flying blindly but sure to meet some day...wait for me!

Ian looked skyward to see the firedrake soaring overhead. Its mass was a black deluge, an eclipse of aberrant origins, and its wings were tautly wound, like a spider’s web. Scales that shown like bejeweled armor glistened upon its body. Its tail crashed against the air; the storm surge of an impetuous sea. The shadow it cast was an aperture of dementia that ripped asunder the sanity of those who watched. Astride the beast’s spine, rode a figure that resembled a man, but with such grandeur at his disposal, appeared a living god.

I feel that we are often taken out of our comfort zones, pushed and shoved out of our nests, because if not, we would never know what we could do with our wings, we would never see the horizon and the sun setting on it, we would never know that there's something far better beyond where we are at the moment. It can hurt, but then later you say "thank you." I have been pushed and shoved and have fallen out and away, so very, very, many, many times! And others around me have not! But then, the others haven't seen what I have seen or felt what I have felt or been who I have been, they can't become what I have become. I am me.

If people can fly, that will be good; they will hang around in the sky and the ground will be quieter!

If I could fly, I would soar all the way up to the window of a plane carrying a suitcase in my hand, then I’d motion toward the plane’s door and make an annoyed face at the terrified passengers. I have a feeling I would do this a lot.

If no one can fly but you that is amazing; if everyone can fly but you that is amazing too!

If you never dream of flying, then you'll never wake up with wings.

If you're in a fair fight, you didn't plan it properly.

I keep quiet and look out the window. The light is weak and watery-looking, like the sun hast just spilled itself over the horizon and is too lazy to clean itself up. The shadows are as sharp and pointed as needles. I watch three black crows take off simultaneausly from a telephone wire and wish I could take off too, move up, up, up, and watch the ground drop away from me the way it does when you're on an airplane, folding and compressing into itself like an origami figure, until everything is flat and brightly colored - until the world is like a drawing of itself

I give you my wings.

I have wings on the back of my shoulders, and I'm ready to fly.

I have seen the coming of the dawn. Unconcernedly watching the passing of the day, Whiled away my hours in joyful play- I live to simply sing the song of love And play the music of my heart- Dancing and playing in the light, I am filled with passion and delight. My voice is free. It rises and floats away from me- I am unable to escape these walls. My body will not float like my song’s plaintive calls. Only in my mind I float free as my song And I fly to a home where I belong. There, those who know my heart well Sing, sing, sing with my song’s spell- They snatched my voice, Held me against my choice. I forget all that was mine Yet I reach to dream it one last time. I struggle to the last But my light is fading fast, A lone warrior waging a brutal fight Against an endless night. I fight for escape even if the notes of this song Are only the part of me to leave. I rise up out of here, Reaching for the things I hold dear. I will not stay silent, I shall not remain still. I sing. I sing to the end.

Ihr stellt Euch ein Leben, in dem man seine eigenen Entscheidungen treffen kann, vor, wie sich andere vorstellen, fliegen zu können. Sie sehen, wie ein Falke über ihnen kreist, und dann sagen sie zu sich selbst, wie schön es wäre, auch so fliegen zu können. Aber Tauben fliegen auch und Spatzen ebenfalls. Niemand wünscht sich je ein Spatz zu sein.

I keep flipping these wings no matter how it’s hard for me to fly. As long as they keep on moving, I know someday that they’ll be able to reach out the highest sky. Cause I believe in their strength, In the way I have never given up on them Or on myself at the first place …

I know everyone has dreams of flying, but this isn’t a dream of flying. It’s a dream of floating, and the ocean is not water but wind. I call it a dream, but it feels realer than my life.

I like snorkeling, it's the only thing I'm able to do that makes me think I can fly.

I’m taking the leap, I’m learning to fly.

I love to fly and I'm able to, Fly when I'm in love with you.

It was almost painful to watch,that kite of mine. Tethered to the string in my hand. Dancing in the sky all alone. My breath caught in my throat, my pulse beating wild and crazy on my chest. My heart soaring with every dip and turn of the kite,as if I were flying along,instead of standing with my two feet on the ground, squinting against the sun to see the dance. What if it fell? What if the breeze took it away? I counted the seconds until I could reel it back in. I was that kite. Fragile against the wind. Soaring one minute. Spiraling straight down next. Just looking for something to hold me up. Before I spun out of control and flew away. Dissappearing fron sight.

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.

I read somewhere that flying is like throwing your soul into the heavens and racing to catch it as it falls." "I don't think mine would ever fall," he murmured, looking at the clear cold sky.

I said ”I love you so much it’s killing me” and you kept saying sorry so I stopped explaining for it never made sense to you what always did to me to let what you love kill you and never regret. As Romeo is dying Juliet says ”I am willing to die to remain by your side” and love was never a static place of rest but the last second of euphoria while throwing yourself out from a 20 store window to be able to say ”I flew before I hit the ground”, and it was glorious. Don’t be sorry. The fall was beautiful, dear. The crash was beautiful.

It is a bird’s imagination, not its wings, that determines how high it can fly.

I've about had it with flying," he grumbled, switching off the plane's systems, "It's ninety-nine percent boring and one percent sheer terror.

I've a right to think," said Alice sharply. "Just about as much right," said the Duchess, "as pigs have to fly." ~ Lewis Carroll: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, 1865 ~

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

I was 8,569 miles away, 37 butt-numbing hours of travel across seven time zones in the last two days, or was it three? Amelia Earhart, eat your heart out.

I wear a pair of wings Full of flaws and imperfections But they are still beautiful enough to spread them and fly Feeling so perfectly unflawed …

I watched the shadow of our plane hastening below us across hedges and fences, rows of poplars and canals … Nowhere, however, was a single human being to be seen. No matter whether one is flying over Newfoundland or the sea of lights that stretches from Boston to Philadelphia after nightfall, over the Arabian deserts which gleam like mother-of-pearl, over the Ruhr or the city of Frankfurt, it is as though there were no people, only the things they have made and in which they are hiding. One sees the places where they live and the roads that link them, one sees the smoke rising from their houses and factories, one sees the vehicles in which they sit, but one sees not the people themselves. And yet they are present everywhere upon the face of the earth, extending their dominion by the hour, moving around the honeycombs of towering buildings and tied into networks of a complexity that goes far beyond the power of any one individual to imagine, from the thousands of hoists and winches that once worked the South African diamond mines to the floors of today's stock and commodity exchanges, through which the global tides of information flow without cease. If we view ourselves from a great height, it is frightening to realize how little we know about our species, our purpose and our end, I thought, as we crossed the coastline and flew out over the jelly-green sea.

I wish I could fly like that hawk, rising and falling with the still spaces in the air, far above all this sickness and death and evil.

I wish I could wrap up the glitter star-green of this moment and hand it to you like an angel gift. Give you the heat lightning flying in jagged silence over the distant mountains. And the smell of September prairie grass and the even fainter scent of October pine now descending . . .

I Will Never Stop Trying To Fly, Because I'm Not Convinced That Anything Is Impossible!

Mine is a quest, for a mouthful of skies. !

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

Make a change! It's all about you! You may not be able to prevent the bird from flying over your head; but you can prevent it from making a nest on your head!

Maman est venue. Hier, elle a accroché une icône dans ma chambre d'hôpital. Elle chuchote dans le coin, devant l'icône, se met à genoux. Tout le monde se tait : le professeur, les médecins, les infirmières. Ils pensent que je ne devine pas... Que je ne sais pas que je vais bientôt mourir... Ils ne savent pas que, la nuit, j'apprends à voler...

Max." Fang let go of my hand. "Right now, it's really all about—us." He swooped down to the right in a big semicircle, ending facing me. Slowly we climbed upward, until we were almost vertical, flying straight up to the sun. While carefully synchronizing our wings—they almost touched—Fang leaned in, gently put one hand behind my neck, and kissed me. It was just about as close to heaven as I'll ever get, I guess. I closed my eyes, lost in the feeling of flying and kissing and being with the one person in the world I completely, utterly trusted. When we finally broke apart, we looked down at the others, who were way far below us now. Angel was shading her eyes, looking up at us with a big smile. She was sitting on a dolphin's back, and I hoped soon someone would explain to the dolphin that he shouldn't let Angel take advantage of his good nature. Still looking up at us, Angel gave us a big thumbs-up. "She approves," Fang said with a hint of amusement. "Jeez," I wondered aloud. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Michael outstretched his great big wings, which covered the surrounding area with a plethora of feathers. Then with a single swoop he leapt masterfully into the sky. Soon he was above the buildings, crossing the city as if he were a part of the wind itself.

Our wings serve as flippers that carry us across the ocean; not in the sky! Why, us penguins have so much fun time in the water, we don't even want to fly!

My mind held fast to that hot morning and the moment of coolness in the cabin. I could so easily re-enact every moment. Again-why had I gone back to exchange the beautiful charts at that precise moment? How many times would I, in whatever innocence, be compelled to choose the right time?

No matter where I go, I’ll never forget home. I can feel its heartbeat a thousand miles away. Home is the place where I grew my wings.

Our mind is a limitless sky and we can only be an albatross flying in the vast expanse to occasionally discover the joys of sublimity!