A Quote by Jonathan Dimbleby

I hate flying. My stomach churns at the mere thought of it. — © Jonathan Dimbleby
I hate flying. My stomach churns at the mere thought of it.
Anytime I feel like I am beginning to explain the plot or characters too much my stomach churns. I like stories that let the characters speak for themselves and don't give you all the information.
Trump can be damned to all hell with his enclosed little world in which no thought is possible. But it's the encouraging of half the people of America and many more besides to hate words, hate what words can do, hate thought, hate the liberal, the sophisticated, the metropolitan. It's anger-making.
Travelling is hard. I'm no traveller. I hate flying, and I hate hotels.
Keep climbing,' he told himself. 'Cheeseburgers,' his stomach replied. 'Shut up,' he thought. 'With fries,' his stomach complained.
When all the stars were falling, they fell from above, and I thought of hate, and I thought of hate, and then I thought of love.
I hate flying, flat out hate its guts.
I don't throw the word hate around much, but I have to say that I truly hate seeing people physically fight each other. It actually makes me sick to my stomach.
Well, 'aerospace' was really not a name in my young life. Flying airplanes was. And I got my first try at flying - just pure flying - by flying my 'Superman' cape off my daddy's barn when I was about 5 years old.
From the described experiment it is clear that the mere act of eating, the food even not reaching the stomach, determines the stimulation of the gastric glands.
All men naturally hate each other. We have used concupiscence as best we can to make it serve the common good, but this is mere sham and a false image of charity, for essentially it is just hate.
Must love be ever treated with profaneness as a mere illusion? or with coarseness as a mere impulse? or with fear as a mere disease? or with shame as a mere weakness? or with levity as a mere accident? whereas it is a great mystery and a great necessity, lying at the foundation of human existence, morality, and happiness,--mysterious, universal, inevitable as death.
If you've grown up with guns, the thought that someone might take them away makes your stomach churn. They make you feel safe. If you didn't grow up with guns, if you don't know how to use them, then the thought that someone else has them makes your stomach churn.
I hate flying. I'm not a big fan of flying at all so everywhere I go I go by tour bus. If I have to fly I will but I'm not a big fan of it.
When I was a fairly precocious young man I became thoroughly impressed with the futility of the hopes and strivings that chase most men restlessly through life. Moreover, I soon discovered the cruelty of that chase, which in those years was much more carefully covered up by hypocrisy and glittering words than is the case today. By the mere existence of his stomach everyone was condemned to participate in that chase. The stomach might well be satisfied by such participation, but not man insofar as he is a thinking and feeling being.
Sometimes I feel a strange exhilaration up here which seems to come from something beyond the mere stimulus of flying.
I hate flying so I always drive.
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