Did he ever-try?' Mingus shrugged. 'He was like you.' What's that mean?' Means he tried.' Of course. The ring was not a neutral tool. It judged its wearer: Aaron Doily flew drunkenly, and Dylan flew like a coward, only when it didn't matter, at the Windles' pond. So if had attuned to Robert Woolfolk's chaos. Don't tell me, ' said Dylan. 'He flew sideways.' Mingus left it vague. He'd always made it his habit to protect their honor against one another-Dylan, Arthur, Robert. To say nothing.
I came to admire this machine which could lift virtually any load strapped to its back and carry it anywhere in any weather, safely and dependably. The C-47 groaned, it protested, it rattled, it leaked oil, it ran hot, it ran cold, it ran rough, it staggered along on hot days and scared you half to death, its wings flexed and twisted in a horrifying manner, it sank back to earth with a great sigh of relief - but it flew and it flew and it flew.
Out of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skywards.Higher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.At first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as vast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.Out of my heart a bird flew skywards. And it waxed larger as it flew. Yet it left not my heart.
When I was 20 years old, my mom flew me for my first Broadway audition for 'The Color Purple,' and I only found out about it because I knew that Fantasia was in it, and so I went online to ActorsEquity.com. I was not a part of the union, but I flew there for the audition, and the next week I made my Broadway debut!
Prior to Flew, major apologies for atheism were those of Enlightenment thinkers (David Hume, Arthur Schopenhauer, Ludwig Feuerbach, and Friedrich Nietzsche). Major philosophers of Flew's generation who were atheists: W. V. O. Quine and Gilbert Ryle. But none took the step of developing book-length arguments to support their personal beliefs. In later years, atheist philosophers who critically examined and rejected the traditional arguments for God's existence: Paul Edwards, Wallace Matson, Kai Nielsen, Paul Kurtz, J. L. Mackie, Richard Gale, Michael Martin. But their works did not change the agenda and framework of discussion the way Flew's innovative publications did.
My father's originally from Buxton (N.C.), and he loved those geese flying overhead. His favorite were the Canadian geese. He could go out there and honk just like one. And on the day of my daddy's funeral, when the hearse pulled up our driveway, a flock of Canadian geese flew overhead in a V formation, honking away. I could almost reach up and touch them they flew so low.
At night I would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees squeezed through the cracks of my bedroom wall and flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high-pitched zzzzzz that hummed along my skin. I watched their wings shining like bits of chrome in the dark and felt the longing build in my chest. The way those bees flew, not even looking for a flower, just flying for the feel of the wind, split my heart down its seam.
Sue Monk Kidd
While working with a camera crew supervising flight testing of advanced aircraft at Edward's Air Force Base, California, the camera crew filmed the landing of a strange disc object that flew in over their heads and landed on a dry lake nearby. A camera crewman approached the saucer, it rose up above the area and flew off at a speed faster than any known aircraft.
The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth's part in life, and a day moth's at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far-off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did.
Grabbing a scarf off the chair, I threw it at him. He caught it, clutching it to his chest as he flew into the air. "You gave Tink a scarf. Tink is free!" He flew out into the hallway like a little cracked-out fairy, screeching, "Tink is freeeeee!" Ren looked at me. "What the actual fk?" I sighed. "He's obsessed with Harry Potter. I'm sorry." Tink darted back into the room, holding the scarf to his bare chest. "There is no reason to apologize when it comes to Harry Potter." "You do remember what happened to Dobby, right?" I said. "St." Tink's eyes widened and he dropped the scarf.
Jennifer L. Armentrout
The next second a great blast of hot light erupted over Toad and Jed, but they didn't stop. Toad was trying to punch every bit of Jed that he could reach. There was a great howling of fright and a heavy-booted foot nearly missed Toad's fingers. Jed knocked Toad off him and rose to his feet. He swung his foot back, readying to kick. With a roar, Hazel flew at Jed. Her sharp claws latched onto his back, piercing through the leather vest. Jed roared in pain. His hands scrabbled for Hazel, but she flew in the air, beating her wings against his face. With a bellow, he turned on his heel and raced out of the pub.
I think humans might be like butterflies; people die every day without many other people knowing about them, seeing their colors, hearing their stories... and when humans are broken, they're like broken butterfly wings; suddenly there are so many beauties that are seen in different ways, so many thoughts and visions and possibilities that form, which couldn't form when the person wasn't broken! So it is not a very sad thing to be broken, after all! It's during the times of being broken, that you have all the opportunities to become things unforgettable! Just like the broken butterfly wing that I found, which has given me so many thoughts, in so many ways, has shown me so many words, and imaginations! But butterflies need to know, that it doesn't matter at all if the whole world saw their colors or not! But what matters is that they flew, they glided, they hovered, they saw, they felt, and they knew! And they loved the ones whom they flew with! And that is an existence worthwhile!
C. JoyBell C.