flying

If you look at Christmas movies, there are certain things in them that lend themselves to a 'Harold & Kumar' movie. In particular, the more out-of-this-world things like Santa Claus and flying reindeer.

I never really did Christmas before. Christmas Day? I mean - what's that? What's it all about? I was always flying on Christmas Day.

A lot of these things will fly in later forms on the space station themselves, or a later form of that research will, once they kind of find out some of the basics from flying it on shuttle.

Flying in space is a privilege, whether it's the first time or the fourth time.

If you ask me what's harder, being famous or flying to space, I'd say fame is much harder.

When you launch in a rocket, you're not really flying that rocket. You're just sort of hanging on.

A word carries far, very far, deals destruction through time as the bullets go flying through space.

There's a lot of thinking when you choreograph something. You're not just choreographing some bodies, arms, legs flying around to look cool. It's a lot more complicated and sophisticated. You also have to deal with the connection of the whole film, so when I choreograph, I think of the movement itself, the camera angles, the characters.

Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.

I could have gone on flying through space forever.

After more than a decade as the editor of 'Wired' magazine, Chris Anderson started the company of his dreams - a robotics manufacturing company called 3D Robotics - to produce the autonomous flying vehicles coming out of DIY Drones.

Flying dreams mean that you're doing the right thing with your life.

Successful technologies often begin as hobbies. Jacques Cousteau invented scuba diving because he enjoyed exploring caves. The Wright brothers invented flying as a relief from the monotony of their normal business of selling and repairing bicycles.

As she gobbled up the miles, big ravines appeared before her, their starving mouths open for the swallow.

Hundreds of butterflies flitted in and out of sight like short-lived punctuation marks in a stream of consciousness without beginning or end.

They [Erasers] were bad fliers," Angel chimed in, "And in their minds, they weren't all kill the mutants, like they usually are. They were like, remember to flap!

Climbing is as close as we can come to flying.

I wish I could wrap up the glitter star-green of this moment and hand it to you like an angel gift. Give you the heat lightning flying in jagged silence over the distant mountains. And the smell of September prairie grass and the even fainter scent of October pine now descending . . .