In the wake of 9/11, my wife Trish and I were stranded on the East Coast. We had planned a vacation to Greece, but flights had been halted. Instead, we ended up on a tiny island off the coast of Georgia.
[Smaug is smothered with a deluge of molten gold] Smaug: [rises up] Revenge? REVENGE? I will show you revenge! [takes flight towards Lake Town] Smaug: I am fire! I am... death!
[in the airplane's cargo hold, Woody finds Jessie rolled up in a corner of the green case] Woody: [deep voice] Excuse me, ma'am, but I believe you're on the wrong flight.
I'm always involved with the Aerospace Program and NASA and Goddard Space Flight Center. And if kids feel so inclined, they can log onto NASA and the Optimus Prime Spinoff Award, which we present every year to some of the brilliant young minds that a...
Same with anyone who's been flying for years and loves it still... we're part of a world we deeply love. Just as musicians feel about scores and melodies, dancers about the steps and flow of music, so we're one with the principle of flight, the magic...
Ken Mattingly: 13, this is Houston, do you read? Jim Lovell: Roger that, Ken. Are the flowers blooming in Houston? Ken Mattingly: That's a negative, Jim. I do not have the measles. [stares at the flight surgeon]
[looking at the controls of the airplane as he begins to try to fly it] Ted Striker: Let's see... altitude: 21,000 feet. Speed: 520 knots. Level flight. Course: zero-niner-zero. Trim and mixture: wash, soak, rinse, spin.
[with Randy's help, and as Dr. Rumack looks on, Ted is attempting to figure out how the controls of Flight 209 work] Elaine Dickinson: Ted! What are you doing here? *You* can't fly this plane! Ted Striker: That's what I'm trying to *tell* these peopl...
My job during the EVAs, the spacewalks, is to act as the inside coordinator. I remain on the aft flight deck of the shuttle, and I act in a manner to help the gentlemen outside, my fellow crewmates, who are performing the EVA tasks.
Like most women, I have days where I feel like today I'm not leaving the house - you know days where you've got a spot on your nose or when you've just got off a flight, eaten fish and chips and feel really bloated - that one happens a lot to me.
She had made the choice for him - in a moment of flight and panic, but she had made it - not realizing that her Jace would rather die than be like this, and that she'd been not so much saving his life as damning him to an existence he would despise.
Fight or flight? If I had wings, there’d be no choice. But since I don’t have wings, I have to rely on my cape, and a long running start.
On the hill behind her crows flew one by one into the bare trees, arranging their dark blots in the scrim of branches and adding their warnings to the drear sounds of this day. Gone, gone, they rasped. Here was a dead world learning to speak in disso...
Thus, Marlowe posed the silent question: could aspiring Icarus be happy with a toilsome life on land managing a plough with plodding oxen having once tasted the weightless bliss of flight?
You know the truth, Miriam. God rewards those who serve him and cultivate his will. If anything goes wrong, and we die, he'll reward us by making sure we're never apart again. We'd be together forever, honey, forever...
I would be a wedge-tailed eagle. I would only live for the joy of flight. I would soar at great heights, on top of the wind. I would be above everything, over the little towns clinging to the highway. I would be a part of everything.
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame.
Leor smiled. “Merci, Monsieur Rusé.” “De rien.” Jean replied, and then he checked his watch. “Our flight will be leaving soon. Are you ready for that adventure? Can you brave the terrors of second class?” Leor laughed. “It depends if I...
All words are possible, then, all names. They rain down, all these words, they disintegrate into a powdery avalanche. Belched from the volcano's mouth, they spurt in to the sky, then fall again. In the quivering air, like gelatine, the sounds trace t...
Birds are everywhere in our literature, a part, it seems, of our collective poetic imagination. If writing a beautiful line of poetry fills a poet's heart with joy, imagine how that same poet's soul must take flight at the sight of swallows soaring t...
For Foucauld and the Little Brothers, life in the desert was not a flight from the world but rather a school of love and prayer to learn to enter more deeply into humanity. Their goal was to shout the gospel not so much with their mouths as with thei...
