Flight Of The Phoenix Quotes

I understand addiction now. I never did before, you know. How could a man (or a woman) do something so self-destructive, knowing that they’re hurting not only themselves, but the people they love? It seemed that it would be so incredibly easy for them to just not take that next drink. Just stop. It’s so simple, really. But as so often happens with me, my arrogance kept me from seeing the truth of the matter. I see it now though. Every day, I tell myself it will be the last. Every night, as I’m falling asleep in his bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I’ll book a flight to Paris, or Hawaii, or maybe New York. It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as it’s not here. I need to get away from Phoenix—away from him—before this goes even one step further. And then he touches me again, and my convictions disappear like smoke in the wind. This cannot end well. That’s the crux of the matter, Sweets. I’ve been down this road before—you know I have—and there’s only heartache at the end. There’s no happy ending waiting for me like there was for you and Matt. If I stay here with him, I will become restless and angry. It’s happening already, and I cannot stop it. I’m becoming bitter and terribly resentful. Before long, I will be intolerable, and eventually, he’ll leave me. But if I do what I have to do, what my very nature compels me to do, and move on, the end is no better. One way or another, he’ll be gone. Is it not wiser to end it now, Sweets, before it gets to that point? Is it not better to accept that this happiness I have is destined to self-destruct? Tomorrow I will leave. Tomorrow I will stop delaying the inevitable. Tomorrow I will quit lying to myself, and to him. Tomorrow. What about today, you ask? Today it’s already too late. He’ll be home soon, and I have dinner on the stove, and wine chilling in the fridge. And he will smile at me when he comes through the door, and I will pretend like this fragile, dangerous thing we have created between us can last forever. Just one last time, Sweets. Just one last fix. That’s all I need. And that is why I now understand addiction.

Because at the end of the day, we are all just phoenixes, rising from our own ashes, taking flight to an unknown destination, our wingtips forged by flames.

Once you kill another human being there is no going back… it’s a bit like being reborn, I suppose. But no ordinary birth—it’s a metamorphosis. What emerges from the ashes is not a phoenix, but an uglier creature: deformed, incapable of flight, a predator using its claws to cut and rip.

I do not deny that you overwhelm me with your beauty. You are the moon in the season of shadow light; you are the fruit of the candlewood tree; you are the phoenix in circles of flight --.

Brewster Place became especially fond of its colored daughters as they milled like determined spirits among its decay, trying to make it home. Nutmeg arms leaned over windowsills, gnarled ebony legs carried groceries up double flights of steps, and saffron hands strung out wet laundry on backyard lines. Their perspiration mingled with the steam from boiling pots of smoked pork greens, and it curled on the edges of the aroma of vinegar douches and Evening in Paris cologne that drifted through the street where they stood together - hands on hips, straight-backed, round-bellied, high-behinded women who threw their heads back when they laughed and exposed strong teeth and dark gums. They cursed, badgered, worshiped, and shared their men. Their love drove them to fling dishcloths in someone else's kitchen to help him make the rent, or to fling hot lye to help him forget that bitch behind the counter at the five-and-dime. They were hard-edged, soft-centered, brutally demanding, and easily pleased, these women of Brewster Place. They came, they went, grew up, and grew old beyond their years. Like an ebony phoenix, each in her own time and with her own season had a story.

I will say it again," said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight. Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have now given us all we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace . . . Sirius, would you like to stay with him?" Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing. When Dumbledore pushed open the door. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore, and the black dog entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. "Harry! Oh Harry!" She started to hurry toward him, but Dumbledore moved between them. "Molly," he said, holding up a hand, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me.What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him," he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Bill too, "you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening." Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded on Ron, Hermione, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, "Did you hear? He needs quiet!

She could be a phoenix, rising like that firebird from the ashes of who she had been

How was it? NEWT: They’re still convinced that you sent me to New York. DUMBLEDORE: You told them I didn’t? NEWT: Yes. Even though you did. A beat. DUMBLEDORE inscrutable, NEWT wanting answers. NEWT: You told me where to find that trafficked Thunderbird, Dumbledore. You knew that I would take him home and you knew I’d have to take him through a Muggle port. DUMBLEDORE: Well, I’ve always felt an affinity with the great magical birds. There’s a story in my family that a phoenix will come to any Dumbledore who is in desperate need. They say my great-great-grandfather had one, but that it took flight when he died, never to return. NEWT: With all due respect, I don’t believe for a minute that’s why you told me about the Thunderbird.

Please note that I know the hazards. I want to do it. Because I want to try. As men have tried. Women must too. And when they fail, their failure must be of a challenge to others. – Amelia Earhart’s letter to her husband on the eve of her last flight.

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the “Creature-Induced Injuries” corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words “DANGEROUS” DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck, Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye.

birch – hope butterflies – change, transformation, inner growth cypress – mourning daisies – innocence, purity dragonflies – ancestors fireflies – life, sexuality hummingbirds – hope and beauty, the sun in disguise, infinity in the flight of their wings phoenix – rebirth poppies – remembrance raven – in some cultures death, in some cultures a bringer of light associated with Creation rose (red) – romantic love rose (yellow) – friendship sage – powerful cleansing sweetgrass – a grandmother medicine sycamore – hidden treasure

I once found a phoenix charred in its own ashes. I brought it home with me, wept through the night, and then tossed it to the wind--its brittle body dispersing all about. This thing without a name and deep within me--how it truly believes that if something is meant to take flight, then it must one way or another.

The phoenix calls to me. It looks me in the eye and knows who I am. It knows that we each can be more than just one thing. It knows that we live in a perpetual state of beginning and a perpetual state of ending. I would wear that on my skin were I ever given skin of my own. I would let it send its wordless message to everyone I meet, as a way for them to get to know me a little more, to understand my flight path a little better,

You’ve shifted the emphasis just enough from fear to love that your old reality has destabilized and the new reality of your soul is starting to break through. At this point, your life may malfunction and you may have to let go of goals, possessions, people, or parts of your lifestyle. You may lose whole aspects of your identity, your motivation and direction, and your comfortable habits. It’s important not to backtrack into more fight-or-flight reactions. What’s really happening is that your soul is saying, “You are not this old, limited self anymore. It’s time to discover who you really are and what you can do.” This is the point where the phoenix lights itself on fire and mysteriously turns to gold. It’s where you come face to face with the choice of who you really want to be. Excerpt From: Penney Peirce. “Frequency.” iBooks.

Enjoy life by embracing the sadness as well as the happiness. It's all a part of being on this earth." ~ Mrs. Pinkerton

No matter how far diverged by their singular histories, every human culture in the Thousand Suns resonates to its tragic echoes.

All over the gold silk lining of the brocade cloak, Amah had embroidered a secret; a map of Feng Lu, rendered in rich jewel tones and surrounded by a border of pearl-white lanterns. The five kingdoms nestled in a sea of turquoise thread representing the oceans. Symbols and images had been stitched all around the border: moon-colored cranes taking flight, red roses burning in the desert sand, a phoenix rampant in tree branches, a silvery fish, a shining sword of steel.

I came here to propose that we meet from time to time. That we meet as friends. That, free of expectations, we come to know each other as dear friends. I do not deny that you overwhelm me with your beauty. You are the moon in the season of shadowlight; you are the fruit of the candlewood tree; you are the phoenix in circles of flight. You are the mythical sea.

There’s a story in my family that a phoenix will come to any Dumbledore who is in desperate need. They say my great-great-grandfather had one, but that it took flight when he died, never to return.

Footsteps in the Sand I’m journeying the path of Truth Not knowing where it leads Walking with my head bowed And counting prayers with beads . On a course, well worn by time From the first man to the last, I’m wearied by the distance And wearied by the fast . I paid the toll of charity To walk down wisdom’s way But will I have the discipline To stay the course today . Fleeing a field of falsehood Holding Proverbs for my flight I sacrificed illusion On an altar made of Light . Will I find the Philosopher’s Stone, The Ark or the Holy Grail, Or stumble upon a desolate place, Of brimstone, fire and hail . Are Ancient Mysteries up ahead To heal the blind, the sick, the lame A Phoenix in the ashes Or a tempest I must tame . Maybe i’ll walk on water, Turn base metal into gold Maybe i’ll write the future And watch it all unfold . I drink the waters of Elijah Pool On the Father’s reality Hoping to ascend like Enoch, The bonds of mortality . I’m walking towards the Light of Truth With God holding my right hand Following the path of Prophets Who left Footsteps in the Sand

Sometimes grownups forget stuff they've said.

A dead run and he began to be afraid because she had to start in the next three or it was no go, after twenty-six days, no go. Risk the next cartridge on clearing the pots—she was too rich, stank of the stuff. Mixture weak, switches off, throttle wide open and risk it. Five. Steady and no kick, a clearer, with black-and-blue muck curling out of the pipe; he shivered in the heat with two to go and the fear of Christ in him. Six. A spinner and she kicked, banging on the gears with the air frame shaking, blue smoke curling, clearing—orange flame and the big prop spinning at a run and settling, putting out a roar from the pipe that drowned the sound of the sobbing in his throat as he eased the revs up and sat like a sack listening to the cylinders beating, hunting, one of them choked still but picking up—then she was running with a will and in the long sweet sound he heard another, faintly, and turned his head and saw them standing there with their mouths open, cheering.

She is not a toy, Mr. Towns, she is an airplane.

The wind had flung the sand thirty thousand feet into the sky above the desert in a blinding cloud from the Niger to the Nile, and somewhere in it was the airplane.

The shadows of the dunes were black-cut by the moon; the stars were huge and blue. Toward midnight the silk canopy was lifted, and fell inert, and was lifted again by the breeze that rose softly from the north, from the sea.

Out of the desert came seven men, and a monkey.

Her shadow crossed the dunes, smaller now. Ahead lay the south desert, limitless. Soon she turned slowly, with the sun swinging across the port wing-tip, and headed west as they had planned.

The Army had your soul, once you’d been in it all those years—there were things you couldn’t shake off so easy, because they’d gone deep into you, and it was painful when they came out, because of the roots they’d grown, right deep down in your guts. Name and number? Watson, 606. Smarten up there, Private Watson! You’re a soldier now, you know, not a bloody jelly fish! Get that salute right, private! Sir! Sir! Sir! Corporal, what’s your unit? Corporal Watson, dress that man! You are in charge of this rabble, Corp’l Watson? Sir! Report to my quarters, Sarnt Watson, oh six hundred hours! You should know better than that, Sergeant—now get those men in order! Sir! Sir! Sir! Hold, Watty.

The figure of the captain appeared again by the tail unit. Softly, sharply, “Watson!” Hold your ground, Watty. Hold. Captain Harris approached him, his eyes wide in the moonlight. “What’s the trouble?” “No trouble sir.” He tried to bite the last word off but it was too late, it was said. Habit. Got a man down, in the end. “I’m not going, that’s all.” They faced each other and unconsciously the rest of them stood back, as a small crowd does when a fight starts. It’s not possible, Moran thought. This is the British Army.

What if I’d never taken this stupid trip, had stayed in Phoenix like I wanted to? What if I hadn’t missed that first flight or had taken my usual route through Los Angeles?

A Krakovian Conversion by Stewart Stafford Stone columns on my grave; Gravity no longer tethers me, Procession for a fallen saviour, Our charmed lives split apart. A cuckoo among darkest eagles, Faustian profiteer's bloody deal, Became a phoenix dove in flight, On the road home to my new form. An unbroken cypher laid to rest, A muttered debate behind prayers; Faux Messiah, who saved himself? Ransoms paid by a bankrupt sage? © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

Sometimes," Llry told Rowan, "to feign an opening, is to invite your opponent's disaster.

I'm so happy I could kiss you! -Twig

The markings on your surface Your speckled face Flawed crystals hang from your ears I couldn't gauge your fears I can't relate to my peers I'd rather live outside I'd rather chip my pride than lose my mind out here Maybe I'm a fool Maybe I should move and settle Two kids and a swimming pool I'm not brave (Brave) I'm not brave I'm living over city And taking in the homeless sometimes, I've Been living in an idea An idea from another man's mind Maybe I'm a fool To settle for a place with some nice views (nice views) Maybe I should move, settle down Two kids and a swimming pool I'm not brave I'd rather live outside I'd rather live outside I'd rather go to jail I've tried hell (it's a loop) What would you recommend I do? (The other side of the loop is a loop) This, this fe-, this feel, this feel, this feels This feels how molly must feel This feels how molly must feel How molly must feel This feels how molly must feel How molly must feel This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend It's just a fond farewell to a friend This is not my life It's just a fond farewell to a friend It's not what I'm like It's just a fond farewell (brave) Speaking of nirvana, it was there Rare as the feathers on my dash from a phoenix There with my crooked teeth and companion sleeping, yeah Dreaming a thought that could dream about a thought That could think of the dreamer that thought That could think of dreaming and getting a glimmer of God I be dreaming a dream in a thought That could dream about a thought That could think of dreaming a dream Where I cannot, where I cannot Less morose and more present Dwell on my gifts for a second A moment one solar flare would consume, so why not Spin this flammable paper on the film that's my life High flights, inhale the vapor, exhale once and think twice Eat some shrooms, maybe have a good cry, about you See some colors, light hang glide off the moon I'd do anything for you (In the dark) I'd do anything for you (In the dark) I'd do anything for you (In the dark) I'd do anything for you (In the dark) I'd do anything for you, anything for you (In the dark) I'd do anything for you, anything for you

We’re going way too slowly, with too much wip and too many features in flight. We need to make our releases smaller and shorter and deliver cash back faster, so we can beat the internal hurdle rate.

The author concludes that in the wake of 9/11, “when American Airlines Flight 77 smashed into the building’s east side… plans were soon underway for an extensive reconstruction program, dubbed the Phoenix Project, which was completed in February 2003 at a cost of $5 billion—five times the cost of the original building.” As an interesting aside, Ms Maranzani reveals