Quotes About Flight

Sapphique strapped the wings to his arms and flew, over oceans and plains, over glass cities and mountains of gold. Animals fled; people pointed up. He flew so far, he saw the sky above him and the sky said, "Turn back, my son, for you have climbed too high." Sapphique laughed, as he rarely did. "Not this time. This time I beat on you until you open." But Incarceron was angered, and struck him down.

Everything good in the world has feathers and wings and claws.

She was ... unhappy. It was part of her, you could not separate her from it. She was sad the way a horse is strong or a bird flies.

September suddenly realized something. "But Ell, Orrery begins with O! How can you know so much about it?" The Wyverary soared high, his neck stretching into a long red ribbon, full of words and pies and relief and flying. "I'm growing up!" he cried.

Lines of gulls standing on glassy blue patches of wet sand.

Australians in general are pretty casual about traveling. If you grow up there, you basically get trained in long-haul flights—fifteen hours, twenty-four—it's what we're used to. For us, eight hours across the Atlantic seems like a doddle.

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame.

It was as though the great black bird which had all the night nested the egg of the earth lifted its wings and let light under and then with gigantic thrust of pinion flew upwards and it was day.

You, the passenger, sometimes fly with rookie pilots who are paying for the privilege of sitting in that seat.

Love is like a butterfly: It goes where it pleases and it pleases wherever it goes.

I only ask to be free. The butterflies are free.

Butterflies, bees our wingèd, happy friends Oh, to dance in the air and float on the breeze...

Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly I well know whither, And rest I well know where...

We spend all our lives building wings of faith so that we can fearlessly fly off into another world.

Surely no child, and few adults, have ever watched a bird in flight without envy.

I never liked riding in helicopters because there's a fair probability that the bottom part will get going around as fast as the top part.

The butterfly upon the sky, who doesn't know its name, And hasn't any tax to pay, and hasn't any home, Is just as high as you and I, and higher, I believe – So soar away and never sigh, for that's the way to grieve.

You flew off with the wings of my heart and left me flightless.

We, helpless infants in arms or creeping quadruped-like on the floor, dreamed our dreams of air flight. Yes; and we endured the torment and torture of nightmare fears of dim and monstrous things. We newborn infants, without experience, were born with fear, with memory of fear; and memory is experience.

I swam across the rocks and compared myself favorably with the sars. To swim fishlike, horizontally, was the logical method in a medium eight hundred times denser than air. To halt and hang attached to nothing, no lines or air pipe to the surface, was a dream. At night I had often had visions of flying by extending my arms as wings. Now I flew without wings. (Since that first aqualung flight, I have never had a dream of flying.)

I began, perhaps, to be lonely that summer and began, that summer, the flight which has brought me to this darkening window. And yet - when one begins to search for the crucial, the definitive moment, the moment which changed all others, one finds oneself pressing, in great pain, through a maze of false signals and abruptly locking doors.

Starlings circle in the sky, conspiring, together, and alone, unspeakable journeys into and out of the light.

Just as the birds above our heads circling are singing, knowing that, in what lies before them, the always unknown passage, wind, water, air, the failing light the failing night the blinding sun they must get the journey done. Listen. They have wings and voices are making choices are using what they have. They are aware that, on long journeys, each bears the other, whirring, stirring love occuring in the middle of the terrifying air.

The Bible, unfortunately, gives us only the barest outline of the flight into Egypt.