Quotes About Passengers

The last wendigo died in 1962, or so the story goes. Reputedly, he (it?) stood in front of the train to Churchill, Manitoba, believing that the train would stop for him, a supernatural being, and then he would be able to eat the passengers. The train ran him over. Sic transit gloria mundi.

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.

want to die peacefully in my sleep like Grandpa. Not screaming in terror like his passengers.

women passengers

I want to die peacefully in my sleep like Grandpa. Not screaming in terror like his passengers.

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

Anything to keep the guy awake. Anything to avoid the old joke: I want to die peacefully in my sleep like Grandpa. Not screaming in terror like his passengers.

There were few other passengers: a man in an overcoat, his head sunk against his chest; a couple with arms around each other, impervious to their surroundings; and a teenage boy with a black scarf wound round his neck, Zorro-style. Isabel smiled to herself: a microcosm of our condition, she thought. Loneliness and despair; love and its self-absorption; and sixteen, which was a state all its own.

Not all taxi drivers, Paul had discovered, actually wanted to take passengers to their destination; some of them, he felt, were in it for the arguments, or the opportunity to pontificate, or for the sheer pleasure of driving past those trying to summon them at the road edge. He made up his mind. What was the point of having a bulldozer if you were not going to make at least some use of it?

clichéd in their repetition and their superficiality, but part of an identity that saved us from feeling utterly lonely and detached, mere passengers on a circular rock spinning through space.

A joke by fellow Texan and humorist Jack Handey sprang to mind: When I die, I want to go peacefully like my grandfather did—in his sleep. Not yelling and screaming like the passengers in his car.

There was a delicious freedom about the swift steady motion of the drag and even in the warm dusty air blowing up in their faces that set the passengers chirping and chattering like budgerigars.

We want to be sensitive to people's concerns about privacy about their personal being and things, while ensuring that everybody on every flight has been properly screened.

But airports lead you way back in history like oases, like the stops on the great trade routes. The sight of air travellers strolling in ones and twos into midnight airports will draw a small crowd any night up to two. The young people look at the planes, the older ones look at the passengers with a watchful incredulity.

Britain's railways don't need to be wholly nationalised and they don't need to be operated solely by private companies. Both of these myopias harm our ability to get the best deal for passengers.

As the head of security for an airline, I can't ask my passengers to risk their lives and jump on a terrorist. This is why we need air marshals on every flight.

Even the now-immense authority of Pierpont Morgan couldn't solve the structural problems caused by too many railroads chasing too few passengers and owing too much money.

I think I picked up some passengers from one of those women at the tavern. Little bastards don't half give a man an itch.' Huh. The women are paid to go there. One might have thought the lice would have better taste.

This life at best is but an inn, and we the passengers.

bruscas sacudidas del tren abofetean a los viajeros hasta dejarlos sumidos en un estado de abyecta sumisión

When the leaves began to fall, all the visitors were gone, and the whistle from the train passing through Orange gave a long, lonesome, shrill sound as it rolled through without stopping to let off any passengers.

The brothers set off for the Bayport airfield minutes later and arrived at 2:57. Presently a loud-speaker blared: "Flight 401 from New York is now arriving at Gate 12." Frank and Joe joined a stream of people hurrying out to the apron to watch the plane discharge its passengers. Suddenly

Die Liebe ist so unproblematisch wie ein Fahrzeug - problematisch sind nur die Lenker, die Fahrgäste und die Straße.

Sometimes, a novel is like a train: the first chapter is a comfortable seat in an attractive carriage, and the narrative speeds up. But there are other sorts of trains, and other sorts of novels. They rush by in the dark; passengers framed in the lighted windows are smiling and enjoying themselves.