#lane

And like no other sculpture in the history of art, the dead engine and dead airframe come to life at the touch of a human hand, and join their life with the pilot's own. ↗

— Richard Bach

#airplanes #aviation #flying #pilot #art

I hope they change my drugs soon. Whatever I'm on isn't working. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#mackayla-lane #change

Flanieren ist eine Art Lektüre der Straße, wobei Menschengesichter, Auslagen, Schaufenster, Café-Terrassen, Bahnen, Autos, Bäume zu gleichberechtigten Buchstaben werden, die zusammen Worte, Sätze, Seiten eines immer neuen Buches ergeben. ↗

— Franz Hessel

#art

Everything that is necessary is also easy. You just have to accept it. And the most necessary, the most natural matter on this planet is death. ↗

— Friedrich Durrenmatt

#also #death #easy #everything #just

No one ever seems to wonder what happens if it turns out we hate living on a planet? What if the sky’s too big? What if the air stinks? What if we go hungry?’ ‘And what if the air tastes of honey? What if there’s so much food we all get too fat? What if the sky is so beautiful we don’t get any work done because we’re all looking at it too much? ↗

— Patrick Ness

#hope #hopeful #planet #space #space-travel

The Song of the Winged Ones is a song of celebration, written as though the singer were standing on the Dragon Isle watching the dragons flying in the sun. The words are full of wonder at the beauty of the creatures; and there is a curious pause in the middle of one of the stanzas near the end, where the singer waits a full four measures in silence for those who listen to hear the music of distant dragon wings. It seldom fails to bring echoes of something beyond the silence, and is almost never performed because many bards fear it. I love it. ↗

— Elizabeth Kerner

#elizabeth-kerner #lanen #music #song #song-of-the-winged-ones

He is so beautiful that he makes a part of my soul weep. I don't understand those tears. They aren't like the ones I cry for Alina. They aren't made of water and salt. I think they're made of blood. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#mac #mackayla #v-lane #beauty

If you could have walked on the planet before humans lived here, maybe the Ivory Coast would have seemed more beautiful than La Côte d'Azur. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #earth #french-riviera #humans #ivory-coast

Who else had ever met the business-end of a bolt of lightning in mid-flight, as he had just now, flying blind through a storm, lost a wing, managed to come down still alive even if it is on a wooded mountainside, to cut the contact at the moment of crashing so that he wasn't roasted alive, and crawl out with just a wrenched shoulder and a lot of cuts and bruises? He couldn't bail out because he was flying too low, hoping for a break through the clouds through which to spot something flat enough to come down on; he doesn't like bailing out anyway, hates to throw away a good plane. ("Jane Brown's Body") ↗

— Cornell Woolrich

#crash #pilot #plane #business

We're given the springboard of the text, a plane ticket, told to report to Alabama, and there's a group of people all ready to make a film and it's a marvelous life. ↗

— Albert Finney

#film #given #group #life #make