flying

Let's not grow with our roots in the ground.

The Sunlight on the GardenThe sunlight on the gardenHardens and grows cold,We cannot cage the minuteWithin its nets of gold,When all is toldWe cannot beg for pardon.Our freedom as free lancesAdvances towards its end;The earth compels, upon itSonnets and birds descend;And soon, my friend,We shall have no time for dances.The sky was good for flyingDefying the church bellsAnd every evil ironSiren and what it tells:The earth compels,We are dying, Egypt, dyingAnd not expecting pardon,Hardened in heart anew,But glad to have sat underThunder and rain with you,And grateful tooFor sunlight on the garden.

The TSA must think we're mushrooms. You know, the way they are trying to keep us in the dark, and the way they keep feeding us a fertilizing agent that comes from the south end of a north-bound cow.

You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.

We ate the birds. We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths, and so we ate them. We wanted their feathers to bud from our flesh. We wanted their wings, we wanted to fly as they did, soar freely among the treetops and the clouds, and so we ate them. We speared them, we clubbed them, we tangled their feet in glue, we netted them, we spitted them, we threw them onto hot coals, and all for love, because we loved them. We wanted to be one with them. We wanted to hatch out of clean, smooth, beautiful eggs, as they did, back when we were young and agile and innocent of cause and effect, we did not want the mess of being born, and so we crammed the birds into our gullets, feathers and all, but it was no use, we couldn__ sing, not effortlessly as they do, we can__ fly, not without smoke and metal, and as for the eggs we don__ stand a chance. We__e mired in gravity, we__e earthbound. We__e ankle-deep in blood, and all because we ate the birds, we ate them a long time ago, when we still had the power to say no.

We swung over the hills and over the town and back again, and I saw how a man can be master of a craft, and how a craft can be master of an element. I saw the alchemy of perspective reduce my world, and all my other life, to grains in a cup. I learned to watch, to put my trust in other hands than mine. And I learned to wander. I learned what every dreaming child needs to know -- that no horizon is so far that you cannot get above it or beyond it.

It is just my imagination that flies,While she is wrapped up in her bedsheetslike a nest.

Q: You'er presented with a smooth-faced, eight-foot-high wooden wall. Your objective? Get over it. To, like, save comrades or something. How to accomplish this?A: Take a running start, brace one foot against the wall, throw one hand to the top, try to hang on long enough for a comrade to either grab your hand at the top or for another comrade to push your butt up from below. It takes team work! over it.

A bird, unable to fly, is still a bird; but a human unable to love is an inexpensive stone: like a piece of uric acid stone

Usually, when I dream of flying I am simply flapping my arms and somehow I lift off and glide through the sky. Last night was different. I missed you so much and my yearning was so powerful that I sprouted wings like a phoenix and soared to reach you. And now I finally understand: if you see lovers on a roof, do not worry. Surely, love has metamorphosed them.

The Guide says there is an art to flying", said Ford, "or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.

Sometimes to change a situation you are in requires you to take a giant leap. But, you won't be able to fly unless you are willing to transform.

You're not winged because you are flying on a dragon

Cara: *Flies*Gen: What? I don't have wings!Cara: Ofcourse not! You're a boy.

It was exciting to be off on a journey she had looked forward to for months. Oddly, the billowing diesel fumes of the airport did not smell like suffocating effluence, it assumed a peculiar pungent scent that morning, like the beginning of a new adventure, if an adventure could exude a fragrance.

Okay, so, flying,_ I started, taking a deep breath and focusing on the thing I loved most in the world. __lying is _ great. It feels great when you__e doing it. It__ fun. Pure freedom. There__ nothing better.__ylan smiled, a slow, easy smile that seemed to light up his whole face.__o the first thing we__e going to do,_ I told him, __s push you off the roof.

Forgiveness is the subjective and fertile ground the acorn falls upon when gifted to ourselves and others.

The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.