He touched his brother's face, his emotions soaring once again.
The prisoner stepped into it, the disc soaring away once more.
Kiera looked around, speechless at the soaring ceilings, the atrium with a waterfall in the foyer, and pristine white walls covered with the multi-colored roping.
Within seconds, she had decapitated him and sent the disembodied head soaring across the room.
"Toby, Deidre – " A branch grabbed her around the chest, squeezing out the air in her lungs. When she was sailing again, she looked around for Deidre and Toby. The angel was soaring through the air, head over feet, but Deidre was nowhere to be seen.
Her phone vibrated and she pulled it out, heart soaring at the hope it was Dusty.
Hope soaring, Jenn sprinted as hard as she could.
In so far we have embodied in the first part of the epic dim recollections of actual events, but we soon leave the solid ground of fact and find ourselves soaring to the heights of genuine myth.
The light and elegant tower (Torre del Mangla) soaring from one side of the palace was begun in 1338 and finished after 1348, and the chapel standing at its foot, raised at the expense of the Opera del Duomo as a public thank-offering after the plague of 1348, begun in 1352 and completed in 1376.
- Nevertheless, there have never been wanting more soaring spirits who, shocked at the narrowness of the popular phenomenalism of Hume, have tried to find a wider idealism.
And yet strangely enough the States of Holland themselves were not really representative of the people of that province, but only of the limited, self-coopting burgher aristocracies of Amster- certain towns, each of which with its rights and liberties the highest abilities and of soaring ambition.
Eagles, vultures and other birds of prey are seen soaring high over the highest of the forest-clad ranges.
Heber's hymns and other poems are distinguished by finish of style, pathos and soaring aspiration; but they lack originality, and are rather rhetorical than poetical in the strict sense.
Or sometimes I watched a pair of hen-hawks circling high in the sky, alternately soaring and descending, approaching, and leaving one another, as if they were the embodiment of my own thoughts.
The sounds of crackling and the din of falling walls and ceilings, the whistle and hiss of the flames, the excited shouts of the people, and the sight of the swaying smoke, now gathering into thick black clouds and now soaring up with glittering sparks, with here and there dense sheaves of flame (now red and now like golden fish scales creeping along the walls), and the heat and smoke and rapidity of motion, produced on Pierre the usual animating effects of a conflagration.