Es raschelte im Laub. Langsam ging ich weiter, schob die Zweige beiseite, bevor sie mich beim Zurückschwingen doch wieder peitschten. Aua. Doch da, da sah ich ihn. Der Elch stand mitten auf der Lichtung.
At first all the math majors took the same classes together: real analysis, linear algebra. But then they started branching off, into number theory or topology or combinatorics or applied math, and here he was, still trying to sample everything, because nothing quite pulled on him strong enough. It had been a crisis, almost, when he first stepped into the math reading room during freshman orientation, saw the shelves and shelves of books in more subjects than he thought math contained, because that was the moment he knew he couldn’t do everything.
I go back to the days of sprinkler summers, snow ball fights in the winter, easter egg hunts in spring, and climbing the branches of the oak tree in the park. We would sit in the tree for hours, telling secrets. As I return, I see our initials carved into the tree with an infinity sign under it. What happened to our infinity friendship?
I climbed up among the branches, and gazed at the stars, trying to pick out a constellation or two. I heard sticks crunching, and before I knew it, he was beside me. The boy, that boy who’s name I did not know.
pressing into the windowpane I wrote about them: skeletal.searching. nothing to be afraid of, after all. that it was dark was inconsequential. that I was young was inconsequential. what mattered was the moment of knowing: nothing made to hurt me but, without attention, my own self.
trees and the green world , nature and the animals that live in nature , the friuts it holds and the shelter it provides for the birds etc.. some are thick some are very thin , they hold precious fruits and flowers , they give u shed in a sunny day and protect u from the rain
I thought today was Easter. I thought that joy was supposed to be springing from people like branches. It isn’t. The screaming voices dig into my head, and they won’t stop…I’m not sure why…
the branches littered the forest floor. all around them were leaves of orange, brown, yellow green and red. together they made a potpourri of beauty. something lightly stepped on the branches…
Breite Bohlen verdeckten die Sicht. Es war helles, glatt geschliffenes Holz. So glatt, dass es wie lackiert glänzte. Sie waren hoch, höher als ich mit den Händen reichen konnte. Dahinter grollte es wie ein sehr leiser Donner.
The children branch out of her like limbs on a tree. They hold her hand and follow her every move. Watching and waiting to see who will be next to sit down and hear her funny stories wrapped in laughr and insight. They are young but wise because mama has taken time to share with them all about the life they were born into.
It was all about control. And I lost it all when the leaves started falling without me saying so. Maybe I just wanted people to make solutions from these disadvantages to make everything better, even for simple trees like me.
I like the branches on trees. Thin, thick, looming, dark, long, short, stubby. So many adjectives. Often, I have heard people’s limbs referred to as branches. It’s a great comparison, really. Do people trim tree branches? If so, why? Is it because they are obstructing someone’s view?
The last branch was cut using a sword. After cutting the branch, the knight laid down on the grass and rested, relieved. Relieved he’d no longer have to hide his origins.
branches are really important because without them then there would be a lot of places for the leaves to grow and the leaves are vital for the plants survival without the plants then there would be no mankind because we need plants to live and without mankind then we wouldnt exist
grown on trees
branch of life
family tree- branch of relation
branches are what join to the ‘roots’ of something
give meaning to the ‘trunk’/extension of something bigger.
a branch symbolises growth
Underneath a sycamore. The wind slowly flows around the trees as I listen to the calm whispers of the leaves. As I listen in more closely I can hear the quaint and beautiful birds above me.
tree life go golden spun freedom days lighten bunch brick summer design croif splendid dismal dark foreboding wet pound black beautiful under danger broken stunk unbelievable repulsive finders youth hide and go seek invisible rapunzle stuck invincible over can’t green jump now
The tree branches were like fingers, long and spindly and so fragile they looked as though the lightest bird would break them. She watched as the highest branches creaked softly in the wind, whispering secrets to her and promising that if only she could reach up and touch them, she would find the one thing she had been looking for her entire life.
Like a tree, with branches and forks that split every which way .
Our path in life, all start from one point,
with each fork our directions converge from each other.
Do we become again depends on how gnarled and twisted the path will be…
He clambered up the long, slender arms of the tree, grasping the gnarly knots. He could see the light of the sun streaming through from above, but he couldn’t reach it yet. The branches were there to help him, guide him towards his destiny. He reached up and caught hold of a single leaf on the strongest branch.
It had been too long since she had returned to the forest. As the moonlight hit the branches, stark and grim, for a moment she wondered if she should be frightened. But the moment passed, and she continued on, in search of the wolf.
“These branches of society give no benefit to our culture,” the Minister of American Lifestyle explained to the board. “The people should be reassigned to different sections and the non-contributive branches culled.”
Throwing the branches into a pile, tossing the tape, tea, and notebook entries on top of it, it felt revealing. I wasn’t looking for anything more anymore. She’ll always wallow in self pity because she refuses to accept her own flaws. And I’m fine if she forced herself into misery, because at last I had found the peace we all need.
i remember lying under a tree’s branches on a spring day. the cold breeze felt amazing as it slightly swiped my face. today was the perfect day… and something even better happened…
I would have never guessed that this thought could take root. Grow up from a shoot. Spread like canopy and gently caress the sky with its softly swaying branches.
It was cold and the trees had lost any glimmer of sun a leave might keep for a day like this. I guess the wind had done its job of sweeping away the green joy that once occupied the tree’s branches. But where does this happiness go?
John could hardly remember the series of events which had brought him to the firm, posh couch in Mycroft’s sitting room. He, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock were to stay in his brother’s custody for the next two nights while their flat was fumigated for malaria-infested mosquitoes. Thank goodness the miniature plague had been contained from spreading into the streets of London, but it would be quite a hassle to make sure 221 Baker St. was safely habitable again.
In the meantime, Mycroft’s two guestrooms and plentiful accommodations had been more than adequate to put the three guests up for a short time. Mrs. Hudson couldn’t help herself from poking around with the servants, helping them in the kitchen, while John spent some time searching through heirlooms and other family possessions which Mycroft had inherited from their mother. The curious doctor now found himself perched on the unfamiliar couch, with a wide leather-bound book propped across his lap. Every other page was adorned with old photos of Holmes family members, each seemingly more ancient than the last.
A gentle breath on his nape alerted John to Sherlock’s presence. He turned another page, to the center of the book, and was fascinated to find a giant family tree. “Wow,” he mumbled for Sherlock’s benefit, “I had no idea you came from such a large family, you never mention anyone but Mycroft.” He traced a trail from Sherlock with his finger, leading it upwards through several generations. “Is that… THE Winston Churchill?” He turned slightly to glean Sherlock’s expression.
The detective seemed utterly bored, and perhaps even a little disturbed. “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, hoping that John wouldn’t notice anything else about his lineage. He reached for the book and snatched it from John’s lap, stretching to push it gingerly onto a shelf which John couldn’t easily reach.
John stared after him wistfully. “You know, some folks might consider you lucky, having so many cousins and grandparents and what-not-removed. My family tree’s got nowhere near so many branches.” Sherlock turned to face him again, approaching to join him on the squat little couch. John sighed. “It was always just me and Harry and our folks. Didn’t make for very exciting holidays.” A slender hand worked its way into his grasp, and he gave it a little squeeze.
“Come on,” Sherlock murmured gently, eager to change the subject, “Shall we go see what Mrs. Hudson has the help working on for dinner?” He tugged the little doctor away from the shelf and down to the kitchens, hoping he wouldn’t think to ask Mycroft about it.
Branches of trees. They extend out into the sky, budding leaves and flowers and fruits and vegetables and whatever else may grow on them. Continuously growing, never ending, always moving farther and farther from the trunk, out into the world.
climbing higher up I go to where am i headed i do not know but so what I give not a care and are prepared to do what ever i need dushing up branches burn trees advancing
We are the many branches of the family …. same tree … different sizes, different directions. We will go on.
The endless branches of catacombs crawled onwards and onwards, seeming to grow as they continued on
Es raschelte im Laub. Langsam ging ich weiter, schob die Zweige beiseite, bevor sie mich beim Zurückschwingen doch wieder peitschten. Aua. Doch da, da sah ich ihn. Der Elch stand mitten auf der Lichtung.
At first all the math majors took the same classes together: real analysis, linear algebra. But then they started branching off, into number theory or topology or combinatorics or applied math, and here he was, still trying to sample everything, because nothing quite pulled on him strong enough. It had been a crisis, almost, when he first stepped into the math reading room during freshman orientation, saw the shelves and shelves of books in more subjects than he thought math contained, because that was the moment he knew he couldn’t do everything.
I go back to the days of sprinkler summers, snow ball fights in the winter, easter egg hunts in spring, and climbing the branches of the oak tree in the park. We would sit in the tree for hours, telling secrets. As I return, I see our initials carved into the tree with an infinity sign under it. What happened to our infinity friendship?
I climbed up among the branches, and gazed at the stars, trying to pick out a constellation or two. I heard sticks crunching, and before I knew it, he was beside me. The boy, that boy who’s name I did not know.
pressing into the windowpane I wrote about them: skeletal.searching. nothing to be afraid of, after all. that it was dark was inconsequential. that I was young was inconsequential. what mattered was the moment of knowing: nothing made to hurt me but, without attention, my own self.
trees and the green world , nature and the animals that live in nature , the friuts it holds and the shelter it provides for the birds etc.. some are thick some are very thin , they hold precious fruits and flowers , they give u shed in a sunny day and protect u from the rain
I thought today was Easter. I thought that joy was supposed to be springing from people like branches. It isn’t. The screaming voices dig into my head, and they won’t stop…I’m not sure why…
Did I mess up?
the branches littered the forest floor. all around them were leaves of orange, brown, yellow green and red. together they made a potpourri of beauty. something lightly stepped on the branches…
Breite Bohlen verdeckten die Sicht. Es war helles, glatt geschliffenes Holz. So glatt, dass es wie lackiert glänzte. Sie waren hoch, höher als ich mit den Händen reichen konnte. Dahinter grollte es wie ein sehr leiser Donner.
The children branch out of her like limbs on a tree. They hold her hand and follow her every move. Watching and waiting to see who will be next to sit down and hear her funny stories wrapped in laughr and insight. They are young but wise because mama has taken time to share with them all about the life they were born into.
It was all about control. And I lost it all when the leaves started falling without me saying so. Maybe I just wanted people to make solutions from these disadvantages to make everything better, even for simple trees like me.
I like the branches on trees. Thin, thick, looming, dark, long, short, stubby. So many adjectives. Often, I have heard people’s limbs referred to as branches. It’s a great comparison, really. Do people trim tree branches? If so, why? Is it because they are obstructing someone’s view?
The last branch was cut using a sword. After cutting the branch, the knight laid down on the grass and rested, relieved. Relieved he’d no longer have to hide his origins.
branches are really important because without them then there would be a lot of places for the leaves to grow and the leaves are vital for the plants survival without the plants then there would be no mankind because we need plants to live and without mankind then we wouldnt exist
the extensions of massive bodies. the effort of much time. the desire to move out, to be free, to develop, to prosper.
grown on trees
branch of life
family tree- branch of relation
branches are what join to the ‘roots’ of something
give meaning to the ‘trunk’/extension of something bigger.
a branch symbolises growth
Underneath a sycamore. The wind slowly flows around the trees as I listen to the calm whispers of the leaves. As I listen in more closely I can hear the quaint and beautiful birds above me.
tree life go golden spun freedom days lighten bunch brick summer design croif splendid dismal dark foreboding wet pound black beautiful under danger broken stunk unbelievable repulsive finders youth hide and go seek invisible rapunzle stuck invincible over can’t green jump now
The tree branches were like fingers, long and spindly and so fragile they looked as though the lightest bird would break them. She watched as the highest branches creaked softly in the wind, whispering secrets to her and promising that if only she could reach up and touch them, she would find the one thing she had been looking for her entire life.
Like a tree, with branches and forks that split every which way .
Our path in life, all start from one point,
with each fork our directions converge from each other.
Do we become again depends on how gnarled and twisted the path will be…
He clambered up the long, slender arms of the tree, grasping the gnarly knots. He could see the light of the sun streaming through from above, but he couldn’t reach it yet. The branches were there to help him, guide him towards his destiny. He reached up and caught hold of a single leaf on the strongest branch.
Hung loosely on the branches,
Clothes tasseled with the winds,
Dove far into the river depths,
And closed my eyes to peaceful sleep.
It had been too long since she had returned to the forest. As the moonlight hit the branches, stark and grim, for a moment she wondered if she should be frightened. But the moment passed, and she continued on, in search of the wolf.
One branch sighed and explained to the tree with a loud snap that it no longer wished to be a part of the tree’s life.
“These branches of society give no benefit to our culture,” the Minister of American Lifestyle explained to the board. “The people should be reassigned to different sections and the non-contributive branches culled.”
Throwing the branches into a pile, tossing the tape, tea, and notebook entries on top of it, it felt revealing. I wasn’t looking for anything more anymore. She’ll always wallow in self pity because she refuses to accept her own flaws. And I’m fine if she forced herself into misery, because at last I had found the peace we all need.
The branches creaked in the wind, cracking as they smashed against each other. One fell and crushed a bed of mushrooms at the roots.
i remember lying under a tree’s branches on a spring day. the cold breeze felt amazing as it slightly swiped my face. today was the perfect day… and something even better happened…
The branches grabbed at my clothes as I ran through the forrest.
The flimsy branches of the tree swayed from the powerful wind. Several broke off and bounced against the white suburb houses.
I would have never guessed that this thought could take root. Grow up from a shoot. Spread like canopy and gently caress the sky with its softly swaying branches.
It was cold and the trees had lost any glimmer of sun a leave might keep for a day like this. I guess the wind had done its job of sweeping away the green joy that once occupied the tree’s branches. But where does this happiness go?
one split to form two, and the two split to form many. crawling up the sky, because there’s really no way but up
John could hardly remember the series of events which had brought him to the firm, posh couch in Mycroft’s sitting room. He, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock were to stay in his brother’s custody for the next two nights while their flat was fumigated for malaria-infested mosquitoes. Thank goodness the miniature plague had been contained from spreading into the streets of London, but it would be quite a hassle to make sure 221 Baker St. was safely habitable again.
In the meantime, Mycroft’s two guestrooms and plentiful accommodations had been more than adequate to put the three guests up for a short time. Mrs. Hudson couldn’t help herself from poking around with the servants, helping them in the kitchen, while John spent some time searching through heirlooms and other family possessions which Mycroft had inherited from their mother. The curious doctor now found himself perched on the unfamiliar couch, with a wide leather-bound book propped across his lap. Every other page was adorned with old photos of Holmes family members, each seemingly more ancient than the last.
A gentle breath on his nape alerted John to Sherlock’s presence. He turned another page, to the center of the book, and was fascinated to find a giant family tree. “Wow,” he mumbled for Sherlock’s benefit, “I had no idea you came from such a large family, you never mention anyone but Mycroft.” He traced a trail from Sherlock with his finger, leading it upwards through several generations. “Is that… THE Winston Churchill?” He turned slightly to glean Sherlock’s expression.
The detective seemed utterly bored, and perhaps even a little disturbed. “It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, hoping that John wouldn’t notice anything else about his lineage. He reached for the book and snatched it from John’s lap, stretching to push it gingerly onto a shelf which John couldn’t easily reach.
John stared after him wistfully. “You know, some folks might consider you lucky, having so many cousins and grandparents and what-not-removed. My family tree’s got nowhere near so many branches.” Sherlock turned to face him again, approaching to join him on the squat little couch. John sighed. “It was always just me and Harry and our folks. Didn’t make for very exciting holidays.” A slender hand worked its way into his grasp, and he gave it a little squeeze.
“Come on,” Sherlock murmured gently, eager to change the subject, “Shall we go see what Mrs. Hudson has the help working on for dinner?” He tugged the little doctor away from the shelf and down to the kitchens, hoping he wouldn’t think to ask Mycroft about it.
branches can be thick or thin you can break the thin ones but you have to chop the thick ones to break them like people
branches are in trees sometimes they break and sometimes they don’t i once climbed a branch across a stream it was scary but i made it
Branches of trees. They extend out into the sky, budding leaves and flowers and fruits and vegetables and whatever else may grow on them. Continuously growing, never ending, always moving farther and farther from the trunk, out into the world.
climbing higher up I go to where am i headed i do not know but so what I give not a care and are prepared to do what ever i need dushing up branches burn trees advancing