An outstanding share! I’ve just forwarded this onto a coworker who was doing a little homework on this. And he in fact bought me dinner due to the fact that I discovered it for him… lol. So allow me to reword this…. Thanks for the meal!! But yeah, thanks for spending the time to talk about this topic here on your blog.
Julia wiped a hand over the shirt sleeve. His essence was everywhere, and yet she couldn’t pin-point the one thing that she missed the most. He wasn’t gone. She was sure of it. If it was the last thing she did, she’d find him. If he didn’t come back, there was a good reason. Julia looked at the ticket in her hand. Nigeria. That was the last postcard she’d received, so that’s where she intended to start looking. The horn of a taxi sounded outside. Julia let the sleeve fall back against the side of the shirt, picked up her bag, and walked out of the apartment.
I look down at the screen to a single-word reply. It is enough. With the edges of my lips conspicuously tugging up, I dim the screen for now. For now. A habit I considered bad but may now be in my favor, should I utilize it right. Even if I have a million things to say. But sometimes one word says enough to skim the surface of everything, if read correctly.
She was waiting at the bakery. I never replied, but I didn’t need to. Instead of letting me enter, she exited, pressing a clear bag of sweet breads, the scent waiting to burst out the minute I tore it open. She grabbed my sleeve with two fingers in a pinch with a thumb—anymore is overkill.
How many years have passed like this? Or has it been days?
It’s been long enough to see that straight hair spring to life in ringlets, and smooth out once more like summer heat.
Her phone lights up, and the screen dims on its own from neglect.
No one-liners for them. If they had them, they would be different. Like a dismissive wave to a child screaming your name in the middle of your conversation.
I catch a distant gaze in her eyes. Another one-liner. Another I let fade. For now.
There is a slight scent of salt in the air, carried off from some far-off place. A place she’ll someday go, probably. The night brings us around a small town into a small house. The main feature is her lonely recliner in lieu of sofas. It was its own joke. It was an excuse to sit on the sturdy arms next to a guest. A joke, but one of those that grows from truth. Or maybe the truth grew from a joke.
When the room in empty, she thinks of how to sum up her day into something compact to put it away. She breaths in through her nose, and writes down a single line of a song:
The faint smell of warm vanilla sugar lingers on the cushions long after you’ve gone.
I look down at the screen to a single-word reply. It is enough. With the edges of my lips conspicuously tugging up, I dim the screen for now. For now. A habit I considered bad but may now be in my favor, should I utilize it right. Even if I have a million things to say. But sometimes one word say enough to skim the surface of everything, if read correctly.
She was waiting at the bakery. I never replied, but I didn’t need to. Instead of letting me enter, she exited, pressing a clear bag of sweet breads, the scent waiting to burst out the minute I tore it open. She grabbed my sleeve with two fingers in a pinch with a thumb—anymore is overkill.
How many years have passed like this? Or has it been days?
It’s been long enough to see that straight hair spring to life in ringlets, and smooth out once more like summer heat.
Her phone lights up, and the screen dims on its own from neglect.
No one-liners for them. If they had them, they would be different. Like a dismissive wave to a child screaming your name in the middle of your conversation.
I catch a far-off gaze in her eyes. Another one-liner. Another I let fade. For now.
There is a slight scent of salt in the air, carried off from some far-off place. A place she’ll someday go, probably. The night brings us around a small town into a small house. The main feature is her lonely recliner in lieu of sofas. It was its own joke. It was an excuse to sit on the sturdy arms next to a guest. A joke, but one of those that grows from truth. Or maybe the truth grew from a joke.
When the room in empty, she thinks of how to sum up her day into something compact to put it away. She breaths in through her nose, and writes down a single line of a song:
The faint smell of warm vanilla sugar lingers on the cushions long after you’ve gone.
The essence of innocence is born within you. Innocence is not something innate. We develop it over time and the essence of time brings out the essence of innocence. As we grow, we learn to do things we never thought we could. And the innocence of it all leaves us wondering whether time is of the essence, or are we the essence of time.
essense, lies in the very air that changes
capturing a net of particles with your paws
as you stick your hands out of the windows of your cars
but every window
one new window per week
and the next week
climb a hiking trail thats taller than your fears
then appear
expecting to meet a newfound peer that shares insights far from your very own.
irreplaceable essence hides abound veritable views on possibles for living.
Die Essenz von allem? Die Essenz von mir? Was wäre die Essenz von mir? Ein Wesen ohne angesammelten Krimskrams. Ein Wesen ohne Wissen und ohne Kenntnisse. Ein Wesen ohne Wissen um sich selbst. Und wenn ich dieses “Wissen” nicht mehr hätte, wüsste ich, wer ich wirklich bin, ich in meiner Essenz. Und vielleicht wäre ich gar nicht mehr ich, sondern wir, sondern ALLES-IST-EINS.
The essence you left as you walked by,
Reminded me of that moment.
The moment we first met, brushed, smiled,
The moment I knew I wanted your essence forever.
The essence of being alive, is to be you. Let you do you, don’t let anyone else tell you how to live, how to act, how to be, what to be, where to go. Life is a journey, custom tailored to everyone, depending on the decisions we make and the roads we take.
It wasn’t something I noticed right away. I actually tried not to notice it. The lights were a hazy red and too bright. The sound left my ears ringing. I tried to deny that when he brushed up against me I didn’t feel anything. But I did. I tried to deny that his goofy grin when I told a stupid joke wasn’t making my stomach do a double back handspring. But it did. So what is that feeling? That electric shock that goes up your fucking arm when somebody you thought you didn’t know touches your shoulder? I think it’s the embodiment of two people; one essence with another trying to show each other they belong. Not just on this god forsaken planet but with them. I guess it was his essence that drew me in, and I’m hoping for my sake that he felt similarly.
Her essence dripped slowly into the bottle. The dark blue aura pulled away from her body, slowly dripping into the small jar the woman held.
That’s the price you pay when you choose to curse a God.
In essence, it wasn’t about her really. She was so caught up in the moments of hardship, the long nights, the thankless hours of work, but really, it wasn’t about her. That was hard to keep in context sitting on the floor of her bedroom crying on a Sunday morning, but she kept trying to center herself with that thought.
After many many hours I had finally extracted the essence of the new cancer that had been the main cause for the hundreds of thousands of deaths this year. I could now finally find a cure.
let’s get right down to the bottom of it
you and I both know the truth
so there’s no sense in lying
I wanted you but there’s someone in the way
a code maybe, but it’s wrong of her to say
in this position there really is no choice
so why are we talking in this awkward tone of voice?
There’s a tree on a hill and it shakes in the wind. It’s been there for ages and there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. People sit underneath it. They take their lovers and their friends, they take their dogs and their aging parents. People get engaged under that tree. They live there. They want to die there.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was just something new and exciting about her. Something I hadn’t seen before. She was beautiful, sure… but that wasn’t it. She was funny and flirtly… but it was something different.
I couldn’t put it into words, but all I knew was that she made me feel different; like there was a whole world to see that I had never even considered.
And I hope that I get to see it with her.
Going through the motions of the day can begin to feel like the reward in itself. I didn’t fuck up too badly, I helped a few, I diverted my mind in ways already forgotten, I managed to put in my time and now here is the bed again.
But just putting in the hours means you lose sight of the essence. What was accomplished? What will you look back on? Do your days contain threads, something forming a beautiful weave over time, or is your time spent in small anxious scratches, blocks of forgetfulness. I catch myself feeling as though my days are like a bout of coughing, I am caught up in letting the latest paroxysm pass. Then what? This race has the same finish line for all, but people spend their hours so much differently.
I had two plants laid on my Lazy Susan, ready have their essence extracted. One is the deadliest poison in the country. The other is a rare medicine known to cure any affliction. The plants look identical to the naked eye. I didn’t tell my brother that before I gathered them. I told him to trust me. He’d been unconscious since he caught the bug. It’s killed hundreds in our home-state alone. After he caught it, I promised him I would treat him; with God’s help, of course. By His will I told him he wouldn’t be one of the hundreds to die of the bug. His face remained pale, sweaty and unconvinced after my promise. Knowing our history he had every right to not believe me. I smiled and told him he had nothing to worry about. I got over him getting me sent to prison years ago. He laid on my floor, dying slow and needed his sister. I had to get started. I closed my eyes and gave the Lazy Susan a good spin.
The essence of her smell was of lavender and chamomile. All calm and stress relief. But the essence of her smile; well that spoke of cinnamon and whiskey. She was fire and adventure tied up in pearls and flowers.
How do you boil something down to its core? How do you bottle the something that sits at the heart of what makes each thing unique? Can you really simplify life that much? Even the simple things are so complex when you try to reach the heart of the matter.
The plan was simple. It was, in essence, to surprise the enemy completely. No one on the opposing side would even humor the idea of a small, rag tag team of rebels toppling one of their core watchtowers. They were wrong in two ways: Number one, we weren’t targeting their watchtowers – those were simply decorations in our eyes. And number two, we weren’t a rag tag team. We were many, we were loud – and we had tanks.
An outstanding share! I’ve just forwarded this onto a coworker who was doing a little homework on this. And he in fact bought me dinner due to the fact that I discovered it for him… lol. So allow me to reword this…. Thanks for the meal!! But yeah, thanks for spending the time to talk about this topic here on your blog.
Julia wiped a hand over the shirt sleeve. His essence was everywhere, and yet she couldn’t pin-point the one thing that she missed the most. He wasn’t gone. She was sure of it. If it was the last thing she did, she’d find him. If he didn’t come back, there was a good reason. Julia looked at the ticket in her hand. Nigeria. That was the last postcard she’d received, so that’s where she intended to start looking. The horn of a taxi sounded outside. Julia let the sleeve fall back against the side of the shirt, picked up her bag, and walked out of the apartment.
I look down at the screen to a single-word reply. It is enough. With the edges of my lips conspicuously tugging up, I dim the screen for now. For now. A habit I considered bad but may now be in my favor, should I utilize it right. Even if I have a million things to say. But sometimes one word says enough to skim the surface of everything, if read correctly.
She was waiting at the bakery. I never replied, but I didn’t need to. Instead of letting me enter, she exited, pressing a clear bag of sweet breads, the scent waiting to burst out the minute I tore it open. She grabbed my sleeve with two fingers in a pinch with a thumb—anymore is overkill.
How many years have passed like this? Or has it been days?
It’s been long enough to see that straight hair spring to life in ringlets, and smooth out once more like summer heat.
Her phone lights up, and the screen dims on its own from neglect.
No one-liners for them. If they had them, they would be different. Like a dismissive wave to a child screaming your name in the middle of your conversation.
I catch a distant gaze in her eyes. Another one-liner. Another I let fade. For now.
There is a slight scent of salt in the air, carried off from some far-off place. A place she’ll someday go, probably. The night brings us around a small town into a small house. The main feature is her lonely recliner in lieu of sofas. It was its own joke. It was an excuse to sit on the sturdy arms next to a guest. A joke, but one of those that grows from truth. Or maybe the truth grew from a joke.
When the room in empty, she thinks of how to sum up her day into something compact to put it away. She breaths in through her nose, and writes down a single line of a song:
The faint smell of warm vanilla sugar lingers on the cushions long after you’ve gone.
I look down at the screen to a single-word reply. It is enough. With the edges of my lips conspicuously tugging up, I dim the screen for now. For now. A habit I considered bad but may now be in my favor, should I utilize it right. Even if I have a million things to say. But sometimes one word say enough to skim the surface of everything, if read correctly.
She was waiting at the bakery. I never replied, but I didn’t need to. Instead of letting me enter, she exited, pressing a clear bag of sweet breads, the scent waiting to burst out the minute I tore it open. She grabbed my sleeve with two fingers in a pinch with a thumb—anymore is overkill.
How many years have passed like this? Or has it been days?
It’s been long enough to see that straight hair spring to life in ringlets, and smooth out once more like summer heat.
Her phone lights up, and the screen dims on its own from neglect.
No one-liners for them. If they had them, they would be different. Like a dismissive wave to a child screaming your name in the middle of your conversation.
I catch a far-off gaze in her eyes. Another one-liner. Another I let fade. For now.
There is a slight scent of salt in the air, carried off from some far-off place. A place she’ll someday go, probably. The night brings us around a small town into a small house. The main feature is her lonely recliner in lieu of sofas. It was its own joke. It was an excuse to sit on the sturdy arms next to a guest. A joke, but one of those that grows from truth. Or maybe the truth grew from a joke.
When the room in empty, she thinks of how to sum up her day into something compact to put it away. She breaths in through her nose, and writes down a single line of a song:
The faint smell of warm vanilla sugar lingers on the cushions long after you’ve gone.
essence the sense of wonder and beauty. life love angels the natural oils that calm you
The essence of innocence is born within you. Innocence is not something innate. We develop it over time and the essence of time brings out the essence of innocence. As we grow, we learn to do things we never thought we could. And the innocence of it all leaves us wondering whether time is of the essence, or are we the essence of time.
The essence of you,
The essence of me.
Perfect chemistry.
An alignment of stars
A progression of time
An uncanny love.
The essence of us.
essense, lies in the very air that changes
capturing a net of particles with your paws
as you stick your hands out of the windows of your cars
but every window
one new window per week
and the next week
climb a hiking trail thats taller than your fears
then appear
expecting to meet a newfound peer that shares insights far from your very own.
irreplaceable essence hides abound veritable views on possibles for living.
Essence. Les sens. Mes sens. Tes sens.
Mon essence. Ton sens. Mon sens.
S’emboîter.
Die Essenz von allem? Die Essenz von mir? Was wäre die Essenz von mir? Ein Wesen ohne angesammelten Krimskrams. Ein Wesen ohne Wissen und ohne Kenntnisse. Ein Wesen ohne Wissen um sich selbst. Und wenn ich dieses “Wissen” nicht mehr hätte, wüsste ich, wer ich wirklich bin, ich in meiner Essenz. Und vielleicht wäre ich gar nicht mehr ich, sondern wir, sondern ALLES-IST-EINS.
The essence you left as you walked by,
Reminded me of that moment.
The moment we first met, brushed, smiled,
The moment I knew I wanted your essence forever.
The essence of being alive, is to be you. Let you do you, don’t let anyone else tell you how to live, how to act, how to be, what to be, where to go. Life is a journey, custom tailored to everyone, depending on the decisions we make and the roads we take.
It wasn’t something I noticed right away. I actually tried not to notice it. The lights were a hazy red and too bright. The sound left my ears ringing. I tried to deny that when he brushed up against me I didn’t feel anything. But I did. I tried to deny that his goofy grin when I told a stupid joke wasn’t making my stomach do a double back handspring. But it did. So what is that feeling? That electric shock that goes up your fucking arm when somebody you thought you didn’t know touches your shoulder? I think it’s the embodiment of two people; one essence with another trying to show each other they belong. Not just on this god forsaken planet but with them. I guess it was his essence that drew me in, and I’m hoping for my sake that he felt similarly.
Her essence dripped slowly into the bottle. The dark blue aura pulled away from her body, slowly dripping into the small jar the woman held.
That’s the price you pay when you choose to curse a God.
It’s the essence of hope which saves us. The wisp of just maybe, just maybe I can do this. And with that breath of hope, we can take one more step.
In essence, it wasn’t about her really. She was so caught up in the moments of hardship, the long nights, the thankless hours of work, but really, it wasn’t about her. That was hard to keep in context sitting on the floor of her bedroom crying on a Sunday morning, but she kept trying to center herself with that thought.
. My husband and my son are the content of my life.They both will be in my soul until the end of the world
Joy. Peace. Love. Laughs easy. Impeccable taste.
Description.
Personality.
Depth beyond depth beyond…
My essence, WHO I AM.
After many many hours I had finally extracted the essence of the new cancer that had been the main cause for the hundreds of thousands of deaths this year. I could now finally find a cure.
let’s get right down to the bottom of it
you and I both know the truth
so there’s no sense in lying
I wanted you but there’s someone in the way
a code maybe, but it’s wrong of her to say
in this position there really is no choice
so why are we talking in this awkward tone of voice?
There’s a tree on a hill and it shakes in the wind. It’s been there for ages and there’s no real rhyme or reason to it. People sit underneath it. They take their lovers and their friends, they take their dogs and their aging parents. People get engaged under that tree. They live there. They want to die there.
essence: to be like but not to be
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was just something new and exciting about her. Something I hadn’t seen before. She was beautiful, sure… but that wasn’t it. She was funny and flirtly… but it was something different.
I couldn’t put it into words, but all I knew was that she made me feel different; like there was a whole world to see that I had never even considered.
And I hope that I get to see it with her.
The very core of you. the essential ingredients. Deep understanding.
Going through the motions of the day can begin to feel like the reward in itself. I didn’t fuck up too badly, I helped a few, I diverted my mind in ways already forgotten, I managed to put in my time and now here is the bed again.
But just putting in the hours means you lose sight of the essence. What was accomplished? What will you look back on? Do your days contain threads, something forming a beautiful weave over time, or is your time spent in small anxious scratches, blocks of forgetfulness. I catch myself feeling as though my days are like a bout of coughing, I am caught up in letting the latest paroxysm pass. Then what? This race has the same finish line for all, but people spend their hours so much differently.
I had two plants laid on my Lazy Susan, ready have their essence extracted. One is the deadliest poison in the country. The other is a rare medicine known to cure any affliction. The plants look identical to the naked eye. I didn’t tell my brother that before I gathered them. I told him to trust me. He’d been unconscious since he caught the bug. It’s killed hundreds in our home-state alone. After he caught it, I promised him I would treat him; with God’s help, of course. By His will I told him he wouldn’t be one of the hundreds to die of the bug. His face remained pale, sweaty and unconvinced after my promise. Knowing our history he had every right to not believe me. I smiled and told him he had nothing to worry about. I got over him getting me sent to prison years ago. He laid on my floor, dying slow and needed his sister. I had to get started. I closed my eyes and gave the Lazy Susan a good spin.
Esta es una buena herramienta para hacer notaciones resultantes de las actividades de lectura.
The essence of her smell was of lavender and chamomile. All calm and stress relief. But the essence of her smile; well that spoke of cinnamon and whiskey. She was fire and adventure tied up in pearls and flowers.
How do you boil something down to its core? How do you bottle the something that sits at the heart of what makes each thing unique? Can you really simplify life that much? Even the simple things are so complex when you try to reach the heart of the matter.
The plan was simple. It was, in essence, to surprise the enemy completely. No one on the opposing side would even humor the idea of a small, rag tag team of rebels toppling one of their core watchtowers. They were wrong in two ways: Number one, we weren’t targeting their watchtowers – those were simply decorations in our eyes. And number two, we weren’t a rag tag team. We were many, we were loud – and we had tanks.