Quotes About Flight

I'd like to quote the lyrics of Rodgers and Hammerstein—something that's extremely easy to do when you're in a library near 782.14 and all those magnificent Broadway show tunes—'I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly!'

Do not use the elevators or your craft will stall.

Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done; Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

How strange. The power of the spirit over the permanence of celluloid. A fantasy, fixed in time yet fleeting. The spirit. He pauses & nods perceptibly. The Spirit is the Reader. What the reader constructs is the Other, & the Other is contained in his flight, the definition of the Other is flight. To fix the Other is to lose him, to let him flee & grow is to keep him.

A Bat meeting any one running away, signifies an evasion: for although she have no wings, yet she flies.

On wings of song, my dearest,I will carry you off.

When books are opened, we discover that we have wings

Who? Mr. Dalton has his hand firmly on Grace's elbow, as though she can't manoeuvre herself through the blockade of tables and chairs. She could fly right through you, thinks Jack.

This is why James likes birds- because they are all possibility. They make a line in the aid, the invisible line of their flight, and this line can join up with other lines or lead somewhere entirely new. All you have to do is believe that the line exists and learn how to follow it. And sometimes life will make this same invisible line for him, make him see where he came from, what he is attached to.

Flight is not the astonishing thing. I have always thought that the miracle of birds is not that they fly, but that they touch down.

I'd wanted to escape history by running to the hawk. Forget the darkness, forget Göring's hawks, forget death, forget all the things that had been before. But my flight was wrong. Worse than wrong. It was dangerous. I must fight, always, against forgetting.

Later (swifts) gather higher in the sky...And then, all at once, as if summoned by a call or a bell, they rise higher and higher until they disappear from view. These ascents are called vesper flights....Vespers are evening devotional prayers, the last and the most solemn of the day, and I have always thought 'vesper flights' the most beautiful phrase, an ever-falling blue.

Vast flocks of fieldfares netted the sky, turning it to something strangely like a sixteenth-century sleeve sewn with pearls.

The hawk was a fire that burned my hurts away. There could be no regret or mourning in her. No past or future. She lived in the present only, and that was my refuge. My flight from death was on her barred and beating wings. But I had forgotten that the puzzle that was death was caught up in the hawk, and I was caught up in it too.

That is why the girl who was me when I was small loved watching birds. She made herself disappear, and then in the birds she watched, took flight. It was happening now. I had put myself in the hawk's wild mind to tame her, and as the days passed in the darkened room my humanity was burning away.

Consider this, and in our time As the hawk sees it, or the helmeted airman:

A sparrowhawk, light as a toy of balsa-wood and doped tissue-paper, zipped past at knee-level, kiting up over a bank of brambles and away into the trees.

That is the lure: that is why we lose ourselves, when powerless from hurt and grief, in drugs or gambling or drink; in addictions that collar the broken soul and shake it like a dog. I had found my addiction on that day out with Mabel. It was as ruinous, in a way, as if I'd taken a needle and shot myself with heroin. I had taken flight to a place from which I didn't want to ever return.

Love changes darkness into light and makes the heart take a wingless flight.

A forest bird never wants a cage.

The bluebird carries the sky on his back.

If an eagle be imprisoned on the back of a coin, and the coin tossed into the sky, the coin will spin, the coin will flutter, but the eagle will never fly.

Khi m?i th? d??ng nh? ?i ng??c ch?ng l?i b?n, hãy nh? r?ng máy bay c?t cánh ng??c chi?u gió, ch? không ph?i cùng chi?u.

The day is done, and the darknessFalls from the wings of Night,As a feather is wafted downwardFrom an eagle in his flight.