Through the eyes of my sister, everything was miserable. having been stuck on a dying star in the middle of unexplored universe, I looked up and prayed to see them again. thinking about anything i could do to get us out of here. My sister had uncovered the remains of her work, and we set out exploring. Everything we tried was in vain, as the clouds covered where we stood right then and there.
Everything is made of lots of nothings. The nothing of a kiss, the nothing of a glance, the nothing of a brush against the arm. All the nothings that happen every day and then they are everything when you’re really left with nothing.
It was autumn when we met and spring seven years later when it was over.
Everything was in view. I was on a mountain looking at the sights below. I was proud of the hard work it took to get up here. I put in a lot of time to get here and I was enjoying every second of it.
everything how can i do this i well atm i feel like i’m worrying about , not vverything but alot of things first of all: how to be myself? like ow can i break the ties that bind me to the idea that i have ot please others ? i don’t, like how can i make sure the thought i act about is my own, i feel like this about lots of things, yeah maybe everything.
Everything, everything, simply: everything.
How about the parts that aren’t mobile responsive? The things you touch and reorient towards in this life that refuse to respond at all. The things that are in a word: inert. Until you see them respond to a different stimulus: an earthquake or another set of eyes. How does the body keep in motion if not for a will or way of some kind. To that end it seems anything can be turned into a rhetorical device.
everything. as in every single thing in the world. i want everything. perhaps i already have everything? do i want everything? will it make me happy? forever happy? everything? will i ever know?
you are everything. movement, breath, time does not exist independent of you. we are indistinguishable from each other. yet, you are unaware of my existence. please, all i’m asking is to destroy me, like amputating a suffering, rotting limb.
i wanted everything from the start
thoughts justified by definition of the heart
everything cant always be fair and true
but thats facts in life not nonsense i spew
justice doesnt come for everything thats justify
and something complicated wont always simplify
death in the morning mirrors births in the evening
so good vibes in your soul is what you should be bringing
everything seems small when looking down below
tower abouve ourselvesand others elevated by the ego
everything that swims wont ever know the sky
but the birds in the blue wont feel water rushing by
everything is finally putting itself back together
but how long will this time be does it get any better
question rise from ones inner depth looking for absolution
but the way you try first isnt always the solution
now everything can mean that or nothing all the same
but it means everything when youre the sucker of the game
now those close to my heart mean everything to me
and thats enough for me to just let everything in the world be.
Everything? Now that is quite problematic. There’s no way one could write about EVERYTHING that has ever existed. You could write about the things that exist now, typically in a singular topic, or historical things. You could even write about the future. But there’s no way you could write about the literal everything.
a brief history of everything would mean that I would need to include all my escapades and what I learned from them. I’d write in the names of people that were significant to me and why. I would mention things that I’ve written about, things that I’ve seen, and places I’ve visited that left a strong impression. What I would not write about would be
Everything. Stuff. Sometimes you just wanna focus and then everything comes crashing down on you at once. I just wanna relax. Forget about birthdays, social media, girls whatever for a little while. Homework. Don’t even get me started on homework. There’s so much stuff and sometimes you just wanna slow down for a second and forget about all the stuff.
Everything I have done so far was a result of my own stubbornness, my own choices. I always admired the way I am so much in love with myself. It feels a bliss to have such feeling. Because in this broken world I have seen souls who love and love others but can’t love themselves.
Help is always here and i find it almost all the time but if everything was so easy and made to be correct and free , then i would be bored with my creativity. however, i am enjoying it all just for the moment.
Everything seems to be going wrong. But that is simply because I am making every wrong decision and now the consequences are coming to bite me so badly. But how does one start making the right decisions when you brain is wired to mess up?
Everything’s connected. If you pour water into a ginourmous structure where everything’s connected, your water will be swallowed up by the structure in no time at all.
It’s hard to keep the feeling of extraordinary when living in an ordinary place—maybe not your ordinary, but an ordinary. Which is to say, anywhere. It’s normal to someone, and ordinary is found anywhere.
Sometimes you have to remind yourself things aren’t as normal as they feel, or sometimes the feeling will surprise you itself. But the rarity of them passing through is refreshing, like an unexpected cool breeze, or a cloudy day in a heatwave. Even if it’s only a few times in a year, or two. It brings about a reminder of how little control there is over the passing of time, and the level of control you have for what happens inside it.
Ever the realist, which is to say, pessimist, I tried to approach it all with a clear look at what my expectations are, what reality is, and what troubles I should admit ahead of time will surely come my way. And I suppose they’re all there. Even the positive expectations, they somehow are all there in one way or another.
Outside a storm is brewing. A typhoon creeps onward, reaching for the lake I see the edge of as I pass by on my way home. My home: for the first time, the weight of ownership is in that word. The birds are in a frenzy, the wind is still gentle but carries the weight of oncoming hardship, and the evening cicadas scream before noon. I cannot complain, I love the rain.
Somehow, here is all I’ve hoped for. An announcement warns of heavy precipitation, an air raid siren declares a harmless war on lunch. All I’ve wished for, erased, and rewrote, is here, somewhere.
He wanted everything, and she wanted nothing from him. He wanted to reach the moon, and she was comfortable remaining beneath Earth’s atmosphere. He sent her flowers as a symbol of grand romance, and she found the petals drooping before she even touched the cluster of green stems. Perhaps he was too poetic for her – and yet, she was far too realism-based for him to stomach.
“Everything is nothing.” He gasped. Never in his life had someone so important to him said something so powerful. He was in awe, left speechless in the chair struggling to piece together words for a response.
He poured everything out on to a towel and began to sift through. Why had he had been carrying around a scepter for the last seven days and hadn’t even used it. Two pairs of board shorts and it wasn’t even warm out. The Skeleton King had to work on his priorities. And check the weather.
Alles. Ich muss alles machen. Nein, ich muss nicht, ich SOLL. Sie wollen, dass ich es mache. Aber ich kann sagen, ich mache es nicht. Ich kann meine Preise anheben, dann entscheiden sich vielleicht noch mehr Leute dafür, ihre Übersetzungen doch von jemand anderem machen zu lassen. oder ich verdiene mehr Geld.
Everything is going to be alright. Don’t worry, be happy. That was Bob Marley’s message. What a comforting message. Unless he was being sarcastic I suppose, bitterly satirical. That is also possible I’d imagine. I don’t know where I was going with this and my minute is al…most…. Up.
Through the eyes of my sister, everything was miserable. having been stuck on a dying star in the middle of unexplored universe, I looked up and prayed to see them again. thinking about anything i could do to get us out of here. My sister had uncovered the remains of her work, and we set out exploring. Everything we tried was in vain, as the clouds covered where we stood right then and there.
All living things, the universe, planets, stars, life
the universe, world, my love…my love, Justin Timberlake, love that song, loooooooooovvveeee…my lovvvvveeeee. God in all things, i’m out.
Music is everything, music is life. A wise man said with out music there is no life.
There he was. Standing there. Suave. Tall. Eerily handsome– as though he’d been carved from dark marble.
He’d ruined everything.
And I’d let him.
I tried to turn away, but knew I couldn’t. I had to end this… now.
Everything is made of lots of nothings. The nothing of a kiss, the nothing of a glance, the nothing of a brush against the arm. All the nothings that happen every day and then they are everything when you’re really left with nothing.
It was autumn when we met and spring seven years later when it was over.
Everything was in view. I was on a mountain looking at the sights below. I was proud of the hard work it took to get up here. I put in a lot of time to get here and I was enjoying every second of it.
all encompassing, big, total, not nothing, can’t beat the clock, two e’s, not the thing, but inclusive, time is a bitch, you are my everything …
everything how can i do this i well atm i feel like i’m worrying about , not vverything but alot of things first of all: how to be myself? like ow can i break the ties that bind me to the idea that i have ot please others ? i don’t, like how can i make sure the thought i act about is my own, i feel like this about lots of things, yeah maybe everything.
It’s easy, on a slow day when I can’t chase down my thoughts, to think that everything couldn’t possibly be as fine as it is.
Everything, everything, simply: everything.
How about the parts that aren’t mobile responsive? The things you touch and reorient towards in this life that refuse to respond at all. The things that are in a word: inert. Until you see them respond to a different stimulus: an earthquake or another set of eyes. How does the body keep in motion if not for a will or way of some kind. To that end it seems anything can be turned into a rhetorical device.
everything. as in every single thing in the world. i want everything. perhaps i already have everything? do i want everything? will it make me happy? forever happy? everything? will i ever know?
Everything I know about life has taught me that I know nothing about life…and it knows everything about me..
you are everything. movement, breath, time does not exist independent of you. we are indistinguishable from each other. yet, you are unaware of my existence. please, all i’m asking is to destroy me, like amputating a suffering, rotting limb.
i wanted everything from the start
thoughts justified by definition of the heart
everything cant always be fair and true
but thats facts in life not nonsense i spew
justice doesnt come for everything thats justify
and something complicated wont always simplify
death in the morning mirrors births in the evening
so good vibes in your soul is what you should be bringing
everything seems small when looking down below
tower abouve ourselvesand others elevated by the ego
everything that swims wont ever know the sky
but the birds in the blue wont feel water rushing by
everything is finally putting itself back together
but how long will this time be does it get any better
question rise from ones inner depth looking for absolution
but the way you try first isnt always the solution
now everything can mean that or nothing all the same
but it means everything when youre the sucker of the game
now those close to my heart mean everything to me
and thats enough for me to just let everything in the world be.
When i think of that word i think of what i have or something i don’t. Its stuff that you wish you had and stuff that you didn’t
all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all all
everything is awesome when your part of a team
everything is awesome everything is cool when your part of a team everything is awesome when your living a dream
everything is awsome when your part of a team
everything is awesome, everything is cool when your part of the team, everything is awesome
Everything? Now that is quite problematic. There’s no way one could write about EVERYTHING that has ever existed. You could write about the things that exist now, typically in a singular topic, or historical things. You could even write about the future. But there’s no way you could write about the literal everything.
a brief history of everything would mean that I would need to include all my escapades and what I learned from them. I’d write in the names of people that were significant to me and why. I would mention things that I’ve written about, things that I’ve seen, and places I’ve visited that left a strong impression. What I would not write about would be
Everything. Stuff. Sometimes you just wanna focus and then everything comes crashing down on you at once. I just wanna relax. Forget about birthdays, social media, girls whatever for a little while. Homework. Don’t even get me started on homework. There’s so much stuff and sometimes you just wanna slow down for a second and forget about all the stuff.
everything changed when she opened her eyes. She couldn’t see anyone or anything.
All
I have everything in the world
Everything I have done so far was a result of my own stubbornness, my own choices. I always admired the way I am so much in love with myself. It feels a bliss to have such feeling. Because in this broken world I have seen souls who love and love others but can’t love themselves.
i am worried about everything nowadays. Everything is overwhelming … I cant run away from it.
I wanna control it. conquer it. fell it beneath me
Help is always here and i find it almost all the time but if everything was so easy and made to be correct and free , then i would be bored with my creativity. however, i am enjoying it all just for the moment.
Everything seems to be going wrong. But that is simply because I am making every wrong decision and now the consequences are coming to bite me so badly. But how does one start making the right decisions when you brain is wired to mess up?
Everything’s connected. If you pour water into a ginourmous structure where everything’s connected, your water will be swallowed up by the structure in no time at all.
Everything In Its Right Place
Now I’ve Seen Everything
Everything is a Remix
It’s hard to keep the feeling of extraordinary when living in an ordinary place—maybe not your ordinary, but an ordinary. Which is to say, anywhere. It’s normal to someone, and ordinary is found anywhere.
Sometimes you have to remind yourself things aren’t as normal as they feel, or sometimes the feeling will surprise you itself. But the rarity of them passing through is refreshing, like an unexpected cool breeze, or a cloudy day in a heatwave. Even if it’s only a few times in a year, or two. It brings about a reminder of how little control there is over the passing of time, and the level of control you have for what happens inside it.
Ever the realist, which is to say, pessimist, I tried to approach it all with a clear look at what my expectations are, what reality is, and what troubles I should admit ahead of time will surely come my way. And I suppose they’re all there. Even the positive expectations, they somehow are all there in one way or another.
Outside a storm is brewing. A typhoon creeps onward, reaching for the lake I see the edge of as I pass by on my way home. My home: for the first time, the weight of ownership is in that word. The birds are in a frenzy, the wind is still gentle but carries the weight of oncoming hardship, and the evening cicadas scream before noon. I cannot complain, I love the rain.
Somehow, here is all I’ve hoped for. An announcement warns of heavy precipitation, an air raid siren declares a harmless war on lunch. All I’ve wished for, erased, and rewrote, is here, somewhere.
He wanted everything, and she wanted nothing from him. He wanted to reach the moon, and she was comfortable remaining beneath Earth’s atmosphere. He sent her flowers as a symbol of grand romance, and she found the petals drooping before she even touched the cluster of green stems. Perhaps he was too poetic for her – and yet, she was far too realism-based for him to stomach.
“Everything is nothing.” He gasped. Never in his life had someone so important to him said something so powerful. He was in awe, left speechless in the chair struggling to piece together words for a response.
He poured everything out on to a towel and began to sift through. Why had he had been carrying around a scepter for the last seven days and hadn’t even used it. Two pairs of board shorts and it wasn’t even warm out. The Skeleton King had to work on his priorities. And check the weather.
Alles. Ich muss alles machen. Nein, ich muss nicht, ich SOLL. Sie wollen, dass ich es mache. Aber ich kann sagen, ich mache es nicht. Ich kann meine Preise anheben, dann entscheiden sich vielleicht noch mehr Leute dafür, ihre Übersetzungen doch von jemand anderem machen zu lassen. oder ich verdiene mehr Geld.
nothing full life food love sex intimacy world travel.fun children legacy self understanding
Everything is going to be alright. Don’t worry, be happy. That was Bob Marley’s message. What a comforting message. Unless he was being sarcastic I suppose, bitterly satirical. That is also possible I’d imagine. I don’t know where I was going with this and my minute is al…most…. Up.