Leaning in on the desk, Harris felt nauseated by the history movie that was playing. During the Holocaust, bodies were everywhere, death was the air you breathed, and life was horrible. Harris watched as Maggie sniffled and wiped away a tear at the sheer horror of that point in time.
History has to be one of the most boring classes i’ve ever had. We learn about fights that dont matter and doccuments that dont matter and a bunch of other really old stuff that doesnt matter. I think history teachers probably get off to reading about history. Ew. history is sucky :l never want to take that class ever again.
we have history. it’s nothing we can get rid of. we just have to accept the flow of it: one day we’re gonna look into each other’s eyes and say, this history of us, what a great story it could make.
The past is important to understand, however we must learn from history what mistakes to avoid repeating. An individual has a history; every mark, every memory; there is a story behind these. There is a history, and what is history but a story in itself
I sit in the back of the room, scribbling down notes about the American Revolution. My mind is racing as I take in all the information.
/I love this subject,/ I think.
And I do.
I love history.
Always will.
I raise my hand to answer the question our teacher just asked, beaming when I’m told I was right.
Our history is what makes us. Our blood relatives who came before us. Our ex-boyfriends who we desperately try to forget or desperately try to get back. The history of our country, its hardships and successes. The reason we are who we are.
I never write things down; I always speak them: loud so you will hear and pass them on. keep them going. don’t hold on. my mountains and my falling rocks; my islands and my charted spots.
is what gets in the way of the present. is also a subject that my best friend from high school hated. is interesting to me. is something i wish i knew more of. is something my mom says she hated when she was in school. is the name of one of micheal jackson’s album. makes me nostalgic but also grateful that that time has passed. yeeestory? oh mr. jonas.
HIstory is filled with stories of heroism and hatred, triumph and tragedy. It is the listing, the story, the record of the human condition. Sometimes it makes us proud to read it. Other times, we wish it had not been so, that there was not such a taint upon our race.
Their history made it extremely difficult to say what needed saying, but it was something they both owed each other. “Please, let me go first,” Keith said, shyly. “But, but, I wanted to say this for awhile, so can I?”
we have had history for as long as i can remember. when i first met you, it was nearly impossible for me to look away, and i know you felt the same by the way you were staring at me. it was crazy how fast we had been attracted to eachother, it was almost like love at first sight. But now, because of everything we have been through, we no longer feel the same way.
It was what they had been, when she had sipped that juices and tasted peppermint guitar string and Across the Universe; When he had dialed that number hundreds of times, yet never hit the call button. It had been wonderful, and it ended, just like they all ended. And still this time was different. As they say, history repeats itself.
love is hard to explain har to feel and so hard to believe, is hurtfull but beatiful, es magic, is just love and is why is complicate is how we feel aboit something
l love history, the ins and outs and why and wheres. i live in nostalgia, and in tomorrow which leaves no time for today. how can that even be??? where did i lose myself in this equation…..bring it home…go home. what is this website all about, following my nose, my curiousity, my passion for travel and learning and exploring. write matina, write, write, write. and so i dunno what this is even about or why i am doing this. where is it going? where am i going? to the button, to the mark, get set and go. go. go.
bang, zoom to the moon alice. no segue, no follow through, no forethought, just go go go . and now, it’s time to stop.
History tells more about the people who write it–or the people who were listened to–than it does about actual history. You can see this everyday. Listen to two people describe the same event. The person who has the most compelling way of telling the story is the one who is believed.
we are never going to make it. eventually we will be forgotten. time is ticking us away and the best we can hope for is not to be remembered forever like media teaches us is the ideal but to help make the world better for future generations.
History, to me, occurs just after you hear the sound of your shoes upon a red, tiled floor which you know has been there for centuries. And then you imagine how many shoes have walked upon it before yours, and what sound they made. And who they belonged to. Their faces are always blurs, like a thousand year-old tapestry.
Grade school. So many grade school teachers ruined history. It should have been like a novel, but it was musty and flat and florescent lights cafeteria hotdogs asphalt playgrounds.
We had history together– but not in a conventional way. You see, he was always in the background of my life. We’d be at the same bonfires and parties of mutual friends, played frisbee with the same group, worked at the same movie theater– but it was better that way. We were comfortable with each other, and then what came out of that was slow blossomed and beautiful.
I was tard of standin’ there and tard of having my shirt buttoned up to my neck. Mama was layin’ there in the box and a fly kept landin’ on her face but she was sleepin’. Mama’s husband was sittin’ in a chair next to her, ballin’ somethin pitiful. He kept rubbing her hair and shewing the fly away. I rested my chin on the edge of the box and just wanted Mama to wake up so we could go home.
My best history teacher ever was Ms. McCarrell. She inspired me to do the impossible, and informed me why it was so important know know the origins and history of our country.
My history is complicated. Well no its actually very simple. I grrew up in a utopia and my life has barely started yet.
Histories my least favorite subject in school. Its taught by terrible sexist men who just stare at my boobs,
The romans are my favorite historic people
This website is about writing so it is time to write anything then we will se if you are good enough for this. Now I have to go before this purple thing is done. I hope I will pass this. Wel it is possible that maybe I am not that good. I have alway tought that writing was something that I do very well. Then I do not find the explanation for
Go? No idea what this is at all lol i got here from stumbleupon …so kinda Award. Whats going to happen when this timer thing gets to the other side? THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE!?!?!
history is our society’s problem as we are sucked into the study of old things we forget to live in the present and make progess that will someday be history to others. history is a distraction
I had the absolute best AP history teacher for Euro and US. The amount of knowledge I gained in high school, at least two thirds of it was from the two classes I took with this man. Because of him I love history. I’m reading a couple books right now about the history of the British Isles, good stuff.
It moves with the present, creeping forward, along the sidelines, staring at us, waiting, watching. Wanting to happen repeatedly and laugh at us instead of with us. But I feel that’s only because we don’t yet know how to laugh at ourselves. Otherwise it wouldn’t be an issue.
We have history. And if that means that we can’t be together, then I have to deal with that. I’ll have to struggle to remain just friends. I’ll have to hold it together when I get the urge to kiss you. Friendship, after all, is the strongest bond.
have you thought about where we came from? you, me, the green grocer with the wavy blue hair. he came from Newcastle, I know that much. Said he ran away from home at the age of 13 and never looked back.
The history he took, was not the history she gave. Her story was one of dreams realized, dreams yet to fulfill, Moments of connection, moments of frustration. His was pure and simply a collection of details that could let him rest comfortably in a diagnosis.
History– there’s no future in it. Actually quite the opposite. This world is filled with patterns and probability. The best way to predict the future really is to study the past
Who the hell picked history? I know damn near nothing about history except what happened yesterday was considered history because it will never happen again and I have missed a chance for something amazing.
history, geschichte. da sind schlimme sachen passiert! so kriege und so zeugs. und .. jetzt muss ich an diktaturen denken. ist verwandt damit. wenn man in einer diktatur lebt, hat man es vorallem gut, wenn man die freundin des diktators ist, oder der diktator selbst. und jeder, der dein fahrrad klaut, wird umgebracht!
The time that has already passed that you can do nothing to change except th decisions of others and of yourself cam be viewed differently from the present. It is what makes us the world and human race that we are today, purely by just existing.
History is what keeps us grounded. It shows us our mistakes and our triumphs with the hope that it isn’t repeated. One wonders, however, how true the history we know is. How much has been forgotten, hidden or embellished at the hands of the power and in-charge. How often does it repeat because we’ve forgotten.
history is a word for the past move on and live in the present
Leaning in on the desk, Harris felt nauseated by the history movie that was playing. During the Holocaust, bodies were everywhere, death was the air you breathed, and life was horrible. Harris watched as Maggie sniffled and wiped away a tear at the sheer horror of that point in time.
History has to be one of the most boring classes i’ve ever had. We learn about fights that dont matter and doccuments that dont matter and a bunch of other really old stuff that doesnt matter. I think history teachers probably get off to reading about history. Ew. history is sucky :l never want to take that class ever again.
“history repeats itself.”
.. keep that in mind.
you know who you are.
we have history. it’s nothing we can get rid of. we just have to accept the flow of it: one day we’re gonna look into each other’s eyes and say, this history of us, what a great story it could make.
The past is important to understand, however we must learn from history what mistakes to avoid repeating. An individual has a history; every mark, every memory; there is a story behind these. There is a history, and what is history but a story in itself
I sit in the back of the room, scribbling down notes about the American Revolution. My mind is racing as I take in all the information.
/I love this subject,/ I think.
And I do.
I love history.
Always will.
I raise my hand to answer the question our teacher just asked, beaming when I’m told I was right.
Our history is what makes us. Our blood relatives who came before us. Our ex-boyfriends who we desperately try to forget or desperately try to get back. The history of our country, its hardships and successes. The reason we are who we are.
I never write things down; I always speak them: loud so you will hear and pass them on. keep them going. don’t hold on. my mountains and my falling rocks; my islands and my charted spots.
is what gets in the way of the present. is also a subject that my best friend from high school hated. is interesting to me. is something i wish i knew more of. is something my mom says she hated when she was in school. is the name of one of micheal jackson’s album. makes me nostalgic but also grateful that that time has passed. yeeestory? oh mr. jonas.
HIstory is filled with stories of heroism and hatred, triumph and tragedy. It is the listing, the story, the record of the human condition. Sometimes it makes us proud to read it. Other times, we wish it had not been so, that there was not such a taint upon our race.
Their history made it extremely difficult to say what needed saying, but it was something they both owed each other. “Please, let me go first,” Keith said, shyly. “But, but, I wanted to say this for awhile, so can I?”
we have had history for as long as i can remember. when i first met you, it was nearly impossible for me to look away, and i know you felt the same by the way you were staring at me. it was crazy how fast we had been attracted to eachother, it was almost like love at first sight. But now, because of everything we have been through, we no longer feel the same way.
It was what they had been, when she had sipped that juices and tasted peppermint guitar string and Across the Universe; When he had dialed that number hundreds of times, yet never hit the call button. It had been wonderful, and it ended, just like they all ended. And still this time was different. As they say, history repeats itself.
I wish my history was different
I wish my history wasn’t so hard
But it is, and what is, isn’t always stuck
love is hard to explain har to feel and so hard to believe, is hurtfull but beatiful, es magic, is just love and is why is complicate is how we feel aboit something
l love history, the ins and outs and why and wheres. i live in nostalgia, and in tomorrow which leaves no time for today. how can that even be??? where did i lose myself in this equation…..bring it home…go home. what is this website all about, following my nose, my curiousity, my passion for travel and learning and exploring. write matina, write, write, write. and so i dunno what this is even about or why i am doing this. where is it going? where am i going? to the button, to the mark, get set and go. go. go.
bang, zoom to the moon alice. no segue, no follow through, no forethought, just go go go . and now, it’s time to stop.
History tells more about the people who write it–or the people who were listened to–than it does about actual history. You can see this everyday. Listen to two people describe the same event. The person who has the most compelling way of telling the story is the one who is believed.
we are never going to make it. eventually we will be forgotten. time is ticking us away and the best we can hope for is not to be remembered forever like media teaches us is the ideal but to help make the world better for future generations.
History, to me, occurs just after you hear the sound of your shoes upon a red, tiled floor which you know has been there for centuries. And then you imagine how many shoes have walked upon it before yours, and what sound they made. And who they belonged to. Their faces are always blurs, like a thousand year-old tapestry.
Grade school. So many grade school teachers ruined history. It should have been like a novel, but it was musty and flat and florescent lights cafeteria hotdogs asphalt playgrounds.
We had history together– but not in a conventional way. You see, he was always in the background of my life. We’d be at the same bonfires and parties of mutual friends, played frisbee with the same group, worked at the same movie theater– but it was better that way. We were comfortable with each other, and then what came out of that was slow blossomed and beautiful.
I was tard of standin’ there and tard of having my shirt buttoned up to my neck. Mama was layin’ there in the box and a fly kept landin’ on her face but she was sleepin’. Mama’s husband was sittin’ in a chair next to her, ballin’ somethin pitiful. He kept rubbing her hair and shewing the fly away. I rested my chin on the edge of the box and just wanted Mama to wake up so we could go home.
My best history teacher ever was Ms. McCarrell. She inspired me to do the impossible, and informed me why it was so important know know the origins and history of our country.
My history is complicated. Well no its actually very simple. I grrew up in a utopia and my life has barely started yet.
Histories my least favorite subject in school. Its taught by terrible sexist men who just stare at my boobs,
The romans are my favorite historic people
This website is about writing so it is time to write anything then we will se if you are good enough for this. Now I have to go before this purple thing is done. I hope I will pass this. Wel it is possible that maybe I am not that good. I have alway tought that writing was something that I do very well. Then I do not find the explanation for
Go? No idea what this is at all lol i got here from stumbleupon …so kinda Award. Whats going to happen when this timer thing gets to the other side? THE WORLD WILL EXPLODE!?!?!
the past which we have distorted memory and knowledge of. We can never know the truth or perceive it as it truly was
history is our society’s problem as we are sucked into the study of old things we forget to live in the present and make progess that will someday be history to others. history is a distraction
history
The most amazing thing about history is nobody even like it but everybody should know it.
I had the absolute best AP history teacher for Euro and US. The amount of knowledge I gained in high school, at least two thirds of it was from the two classes I took with this man. Because of him I love history. I’m reading a couple books right now about the history of the British Isles, good stuff.
It moves with the present, creeping forward, along the sidelines, staring at us, waiting, watching. Wanting to happen repeatedly and laugh at us instead of with us. But I feel that’s only because we don’t yet know how to laugh at ourselves. Otherwise it wouldn’t be an issue.
We have history. And if that means that we can’t be together, then I have to deal with that. I’ll have to struggle to remain just friends. I’ll have to hold it together when I get the urge to kiss you. Friendship, after all, is the strongest bond.
have you thought about where we came from? you, me, the green grocer with the wavy blue hair. he came from Newcastle, I know that much. Said he ran away from home at the age of 13 and never looked back.
The history he took, was not the history she gave. Her story was one of dreams realized, dreams yet to fulfill, Moments of connection, moments of frustration. His was pure and simply a collection of details that could let him rest comfortably in a diagnosis.
History– there’s no future in it. Actually quite the opposite. This world is filled with patterns and probability. The best way to predict the future really is to study the past
Who the hell picked history? I know damn near nothing about history except what happened yesterday was considered history because it will never happen again and I have missed a chance for something amazing.
history, geschichte. da sind schlimme sachen passiert! so kriege und so zeugs. und .. jetzt muss ich an diktaturen denken. ist verwandt damit. wenn man in einer diktatur lebt, hat man es vorallem gut, wenn man die freundin des diktators ist, oder der diktator selbst. und jeder, der dein fahrrad klaut, wird umgebracht!
The time that has already passed that you can do nothing to change except th decisions of others and of yourself cam be viewed differently from the present. It is what makes us the world and human race that we are today, purely by just existing.
History is what keeps us grounded. It shows us our mistakes and our triumphs with the hope that it isn’t repeated. One wonders, however, how true the history we know is. How much has been forgotten, hidden or embellished at the hands of the power and in-charge. How often does it repeat because we’ve forgotten.