There was no way he could measure up. He knew it, and knew the futility of trying. But some screwed-up sense of hope kept him going, kept him trying and failing and trying and failing again.
It’s measure for measure, scoop after scoop, as I stand near the kitchen stove, trying to my best to make a decent dinner without burning anything, overcooking anything, or setting my entire kitchen on fire. I don’t know what the recipes call for because I’m too lazy to look, so I keep standing, measuring, scooping.
She measured him with her gaze – the way his hair fell in his eyes as his head tilted downward, engrossed in a dog-eared novel, his furrowed brow concealed beneath the nearblack curtain. Oblivious.
Are we measured by tall or short? What is tall or short though — our physical height, sure, perhaps. But the height of our character, the shortness of our tempers, the length of our patience, and how small we feel when alone with ourselves.
in equal measures we give ourselves monopoly over self and
not-self. i lied about it being equal in fact our measures are
broken or rather, each of us has a different one calibrated
right-wrongly for ourselves, right for others – who knows? but we
cannot measure against others and so we float on.
A slippery film of flour was left on my hands as the excess floated back into the bag. I measured out exactly one cup for the cake, being precise to the fault of taking ages to do it because momma says baking is a science. But it’s more holy than scientific in my family.
I will measure myself tomorrow because I need to know how tall I am. Why do I need to know how tall I am? Well because I want to be the tallest person in the world! Yes, that’s right. I want to be the tallest person in the world and in order to do this I need to measure myself every day. Measuring is important, not just to see how tall you are but when you cook you need to measure your ingredients, when you purchase produce you measure to see how heavy it is; measuring is important all the time. Now back to the most important measuring, the one where I measure myself to see if I am the tallest person in the world. I love measuring myself because I really think I can reach this goal. What do you think? Would you measure yourself so you can be the tallest person in the world?
What can we do with a measuring stick? Nothing, nothing at all! Happiness, sorrow, hate and laughter, all given in an invisible form, with unbearable weight and unbearable lightness. You never know deep they dig, how high they throw you.
not too much. how much is too much. just a scootch. jesus, what’s a scootch, you can’t expect me to make this right with measurements like that. well mom never wrote any measurements down. ok, but is a scootch, what like a pinch, a teaspoon, a friggin’ dash.
When Ruth was a girl her father took her aside and said, My lass, my child, I’m going to teach you our trade.
She said, But Pa, I do’on’t want to learn our trade.
She said, But Pa, I think there might be something better up and out there.
And he shook his head and explained that they’d been farmers once and before that who knows but now they were poor and what could they do but be what they are?
And what we are is thieves my lass. Thieves. Take it, own it, don’t let it rule you.
I’m finding it harder these days to know what I am to you. I felt like I’m constantly under pressure to live up to your expectation. To do everything right. Even a small task is a burden because I felt like I’m never good enough. I’ll never measure up to be the perfect person you want me to.
We must do all in our power to dispense the correct measure to everyone, when we provide a service.God say in his word that he hate all those who fall short on this point, and we must respect the wish of those that we come into contact with.
Looking up at the stars in the night sky, she often wondered how the distance from stars to Earth was measured. How far does light travel in a year, how do we know how far light travels in a year? What if we have got that wrong? Then all the distances between stars and Earth would be wrong
I’ve measured time distance but really what is a measure without anything to mesure it makes no sense think about how a measurement is produced by the fact there is object that needs measuring . How sad it is to be used.
I wish I could measure the time I wasted on you. 4 years
gone but that doesn’t even begin to measure how empty you left me.
I wish I could tell everyone how much happiness you drained from my
veins. I want to measure your fucking IQ because only such an idiot
could leave someone like this. But as these harsh words flow from
the keyboard, I know I don’t want to measure anything. If anything,
I want to leave it a secret because you’re dead to me.
“You cannot measure a man’s worth that way!”
“Can you not?” I asked, turning to face my father. “I believe Sister Margaery’s ‘A Journey of Faith’ says ‘a man’s worth is discerned not by wealth or status but in the way he treats the least of the Shaper’s children’.”
“The good sister was speaking of PEOPLE, Tamsin, not horses!” he said, the words all but exploding out of him.
“Are not the beasts of this world creatures of the Shaper as surely as man?” I countered fiercely.
I measured the boy’s height and nodded.
He was definitely too small for his age.
“But it’s not some kind of dwarfism, is it?” His mother glanced at me. “He can still grow…?”
“Yes. In this case I would suggest hormon injections to encourage his growth.”
“I see…”
I looked at her son.
A ten-year-old boy caught in the body of a seven-year-old child who enjoyed reading his book and didn’t care about our conversation.
I wondered if the boy really wanted to grow.
The measures of the beat was 4 by 4. he never understood the meaning, but he relied on his own intuition. He played the piano very quietly but never for anyone to hear. He was self concious. Never ever did he relate himself to anyone else
Daphne measured how many cups of flour went into the cake. It had been such a long time since she had seen him and she wanted everything to go perfectly. She knew German chocolate was his favorite and she was hoping in some small way this gesture would be an olive branch of sorts.
Measure.
A measure of time.
Life.
Moments.
How exactly do you measure things like this?
Is it possible to use a ruler?
Is it based on the seconds or minutes that pass by,
Or is it based off of emotions?
How do you measure life?
Measure the flour at eye-level.
Measure the beat at heart-level. Or ear-level.
Measure the marigolds.
Measure up? PLEASE. Only in the ways that suit you.
Measure. Something one cannot do to love. The aching pain coming from the organ in our bodies comes in an innumerable amount. One cannot count the love being given or or received between two people. It is not science. There are no rules or laws. It is an uncontrollable emotion turns us into crazy, stupid people. It is like being under the influence of alcohol. Love is an addiction. The dependency we have to the one we love can destroy us, just like the toxic substance. Our love for our partner changes us, and not always for the better. We need not to measure our love for them because we know it is there. It’s presence is apparent and so is the trouble that comes along with it.
Jack poured a small measure of the spirit into the tumbler and carefully pushed it towrds the customer.
‘Don’t want to spill that – you look like you need every drop.
The customer nodded, and took the glass before raising it to his lips.
‘That’s got a kick to it’
She finds it hard to measure up to everyone’s standards but she tries anyways. She puts it upon herself to know the true power of her abilities. They don’t see what she sees and to her that’s a good thing. She knows that she is the only one who can hold this type of power and responsibility. They don’t understand and they never will.
Testi di prova su oneword
chissa cosa succede, proviamo.
There was no way he could measure up. He knew it, and knew the futility of trying. But some screwed-up sense of hope kept him going, kept him trying and failing and trying and failing again.
It’s measure for measure, scoop after scoop, as I stand near the kitchen stove, trying to my best to make a decent dinner without burning anything, overcooking anything, or setting my entire kitchen on fire. I don’t know what the recipes call for because I’m too lazy to look, so I keep standing, measuring, scooping.
She measured him with her gaze – the way his hair fell in his eyes as his head tilted downward, engrossed in a dog-eared novel, his furrowed brow concealed beneath the nearblack curtain. Oblivious.
How do we measure ourselves?
Are we measured by tall or short? What is tall or short though — our physical height, sure, perhaps. But the height of our character, the shortness of our tempers, the length of our patience, and how small we feel when alone with ourselves.
Which of these is the measure we value the most?
in equal measures we give ourselves monopoly over self and
not-self. i lied about it being equal in fact our measures are
broken or rather, each of us has a different one calibrated
right-wrongly for ourselves, right for others – who knows? but we
cannot measure against others and so we float on.
A slippery film of flour was left on my hands as the excess floated back into the bag. I measured out exactly one cup for the cake, being precise to the fault of taking ages to do it because momma says baking is a science. But it’s more holy than scientific in my family.
Man is the Measure. Reuben Abel. “Let us not pretend to doubt in philosophy what we do not doubt in our hearts.” Charles Perice
To measure a mans love for you you need to be able to see his soul. When you can look into his eyes and feel his spirit, then you will know true love.
She went to measure the TV. The assignment had been to measure things using the measurement unit of a chocolate bar.
scuba:
you didnt have to leave the land
to find somewhere to drown
versatile:
i know the dark becomes you
(but the light loves you more)
measure:
you cannot buy me
with a shot glass of liquor,
a cupful of coffee,
or a year’s worth of tears.
What is the measure of a man? Is it how much money he makes, the cars and houses he buys or the person he is? What is the measure of
I will measure myself tomorrow because I need to know how tall I am. Why do I need to know how tall I am? Well because I want to be the tallest person in the world! Yes, that’s right. I want to be the tallest person in the world and in order to do this I need to measure myself every day. Measuring is important, not just to see how tall you are but when you cook you need to measure your ingredients, when you purchase produce you measure to see how heavy it is; measuring is important all the time. Now back to the most important measuring, the one where I measure myself to see if I am the tallest person in the world. I love measuring myself because I really think I can reach this goal. What do you think? Would you measure yourself so you can be the tallest person in the world?
What can we do with a measuring stick? Nothing, nothing at all! Happiness, sorrow, hate and laughter, all given in an invisible form, with unbearable weight and unbearable lightness. You never know deep they dig, how high they throw you.
I like to measure with a ruler
She poured the measure slowly, letting the glass fill bit by bit in a thin stream.
“What does this one do?” he asked.
“Helps you see,” she replied. “Helps you learn. Helps you do.”
“I may need a double,” he said, trying to smile.
“I may need another bottle.”
not too much. how much is too much. just a scootch. jesus, what’s a scootch, you can’t expect me to make this right with measurements like that. well mom never wrote any measurements down. ok, but is a scootch, what like a pinch, a teaspoon, a friggin’ dash.
When Ruth was a girl her father took her aside and said, My lass, my child, I’m going to teach you our trade.
She said, But Pa, I do’on’t want to learn our trade.
She said, But Pa, I think there might be something better up and out there.
And he shook his head and explained that they’d been farmers once and before that who knows but now they were poor and what could they do but be what they are?
And what we are is thieves my lass. Thieves. Take it, own it, don’t let it rule you.
I’m finding it harder these days to know what I am to you. I felt like I’m constantly under pressure to live up to your expectation. To do everything right. Even a small task is a burden because I felt like I’m never good enough. I’ll never measure up to be the perfect person you want me to.
We must do all in our power to dispense the correct measure to everyone, when we provide a service.God say in his word that he hate all those who fall short on this point, and we must respect the wish of those that we come into contact with.
Looking up at the stars in the night sky, she often wondered how the distance from stars to Earth was measured. How far does light travel in a year, how do we know how far light travels in a year? What if we have got that wrong? Then all the distances between stars and Earth would be wrong
How could you even measure the space in between you and me?
I’ve measured time distance but really what is a measure without anything to mesure it makes no sense think about how a measurement is produced by the fact there is object that needs measuring . How sad it is to be used.
I wish I could measure the time I wasted on you. 4 years
gone but that doesn’t even begin to measure how empty you left me.
I wish I could tell everyone how much happiness you drained from my
veins. I want to measure your fucking IQ because only such an idiot
could leave someone like this. But as these harsh words flow from
the keyboard, I know I don’t want to measure anything. If anything,
I want to leave it a secret because you’re dead to me.
“You cannot measure a man’s worth that way!”
“Can you not?” I asked, turning to face my father. “I believe Sister Margaery’s ‘A Journey of Faith’ says ‘a man’s worth is discerned not by wealth or status but in the way he treats the least of the Shaper’s children’.”
“The good sister was speaking of PEOPLE, Tamsin, not horses!” he said, the words all but exploding out of him.
“Are not the beasts of this world creatures of the Shaper as surely as man?” I countered fiercely.
I measured the boy’s height and nodded.
He was definitely too small for his age.
“But it’s not some kind of dwarfism, is it?” His mother glanced at me. “He can still grow…?”
“Yes. In this case I would suggest hormon injections to encourage his growth.”
“I see…”
I looked at her son.
A ten-year-old boy caught in the body of a seven-year-old child who enjoyed reading his book and didn’t care about our conversation.
I wondered if the boy really wanted to grow.
The measures of the beat was 4 by 4. he never understood the meaning, but he relied on his own intuition. He played the piano very quietly but never for anyone to hear. He was self concious. Never ever did he relate himself to anyone else
Daphne measured how many cups of flour went into the cake. It had been such a long time since she had seen him and she wanted everything to go perfectly. She knew German chocolate was his favorite and she was hoping in some small way this gesture would be an olive branch of sorts.
Measure.
A measure of time.
Life.
Moments.
How exactly do you measure things like this?
Is it possible to use a ruler?
Is it based on the seconds or minutes that pass by,
Or is it based off of emotions?
How do you measure life?
Measure the flour at eye-level.
Measure the beat at heart-level. Or ear-level.
Measure the marigolds.
Measure up? PLEASE. Only in the ways that suit you.
Measure. Something one cannot do to love. The aching pain coming from the organ in our bodies comes in an innumerable amount. One cannot count the love being given or or received between two people. It is not science. There are no rules or laws. It is an uncontrollable emotion turns us into crazy, stupid people. It is like being under the influence of alcohol. Love is an addiction. The dependency we have to the one we love can destroy us, just like the toxic substance. Our love for our partner changes us, and not always for the better. We need not to measure our love for them because we know it is there. It’s presence is apparent and so is the trouble that comes along with it.
THE AREA WAS LIGHT UP
Fate, they call me and my sisters, for we wind the thread that binds their short lives together.
My sisters cut and spin, but I measure. I measure time and happiness and heartbreak; nothing passes without my knowledge.
You may think to defeat death or cheat time, but I measure the seconds that pass in your life.
And your time is up.
I measure the height of your hopes
I measure the weigh of your love
Everything is measured to the closest second
What happened to being free.
Jack poured a small measure of the spirit into the tumbler and carefully pushed it towrds the customer.
‘Don’t want to spill that – you look like you need every drop.
The customer nodded, and took the glass before raising it to his lips.
‘That’s got a kick to it’
She finds it hard to measure up to everyone’s standards but she tries anyways. She puts it upon herself to know the true power of her abilities. They don’t see what she sees and to her that’s a good thing. She knows that she is the only one who can hold this type of power and responsibility. They don’t understand and they never will.