labor is the the word i saw beforeon a different page i,cnat help but want to to go back and us the backspace button. drug dealers labor. they have to pay bills too. now lets start the show. has it been 60 seconds yet. oh my god if ups does not hurry i’m going to keep doing things like this. i need those shoes.
There was nothing there for her any more but labor. Hard labor. It was brutal. She had no life but her work and it hurt. No friends, no family, no joy. Nothing but labor. She cried.
We need to work hard to get things in life. Labor can be physical, emotional, and spiritual. By putting in effort, our tasks come to fruition and we can enjoy our work. We drive eachother to work harder, working as a team is where it’s at!
I labor under the delusion that I am getting somewhere in life….maybe just my love life. I seem to go back and forth between decision and non. I guess you could call it a labor of love? It is definitely taxing. But fun.
When she went into labor she started laughing. Her water broke in the dry goods aisle and all she could think about was the damage done to the rice on the bottom shelf. She wondered if the store would write it off, or if somehow, she would be made to pay. Envisioned herself writing a cheque while squeezing out this infernal baby parasite about to make itself apparent.
labour is a thing that one would do when they were working. this sentence may not actually make physical sense, but that’s the whole point of labour isn’t it? i don’t know that it is, really, but i have to ask. i also don’t have much to say about labour to be honest, because i don’t work much.
I want to experience labor…I want a child so badly, i don’t care how much it hurts. I wish everyone would stop telling me I’m too young. I want a baby; a child to take care of and be responsible for. I want to know I brought life into this world.
the labor of love, what does it mean? I’ve grown up with the idea of labor as something hard, something to work through, something proletarian, with a tinge of propaganda attached. And then I come to the States and I hear about the labor of love. Surely love shouldn’t be laborious, surely it’s something better than wielding a hoe and a hammer in a hot field.
I work in a field filled with beautiful lavender. I see the sun in the horizon and I enjoy it’s beauty as I see the birds fly off in the sky. It becomes darker. As the sun sets, I realize the real beauty of the natural world. I feel at peace. Part of the earth. I feel one with myself.
adorable that the child soon to become a sister thought mom was growing a chicken in her tummy when she saw the baby on an ultrasound. everything is adorable about this young family growing. well, not the labour and throwing up part. (labour. i’m canadian)
The grapes of wrath. They labored and labored and labored and they never got what they wanted. In the end, the reader is left hopeless. Is there hope in working hard? I wonder if this is how life is going to be in the year 2010 too. There is no reward for hard work anymore.
Labor is nothing. Labor is myth. We work and toil, and in the end we have nothing to show for it. Maybe a house, maybe security, but no joy, no peace. And what of those who labor for nothing. Labor for minimum wage; labor for the American dream that will never come to fruition?
Labor is what we ascribe to ourselves. It’s honor, it’s what makes us feel important and, ultimately, worthwhile. Without labor we are nothing, or so we think. We are wrong.
It was horrible, back breaking work, or so Cera thought at least. “Gwen you’ve got to be kidding me.” She whined brandishing the scrub-brush. “Stop complaining. This is your mess too.”
labor rules, regulations. why so important? think back 100 years. look at the horrible conditions that the lower class were forced to work in. on instance the triangle shirtwaist factory.
the girl was tired of her labor. everyday she is subjected to the toils of a working class women. Never really able to finish school, labor was her destiny. To labor, to sweat, and to cry. She wishes for her family but with that money and what time. She wants to get married but with what money and what time. These people on the tv flashing their vaginas, cheating on their husbands, snorting cocaine. If only she could have the luxury of not giving a fuck.
A Labor of love, TO labor in the fields. To go into labor. These are some of the meanings of labor. Labor can be something difficult for e.g. something laborious. To be-labor a point is
labor is painful, torturous work. wel i suppose it depends on the kind of labor. some, I’m told, are far more painful than others. Sometimes it’s simply work, sometimes it’s the delivery of a life. It’s a pesky thing, labor.
I like to labour through a book, especially a juicy one. I gather facts, look at the information from different angles. Some facts are difficult to digest, other facts push the barriers and I want to slam the book shut but I don’t!
Labour is too much. Every day is a labour sentence. Breathing is Labour. Getting on a bus and travelling. All activities take energy, take labour. I labour in my sleep. I visit other kingdoms to meet The Lord.
It’s hard labor, doing what I do. Hard labor and long hours and inhumane conditions, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not that you’d find a lot of people willing to trade places with me. Whenever I’ve found myself time to relax and lay back, I always get anxious, nervous even, and I have to gof ind something to do. So, this is Heaven for me.
She went into labor around nine o’clock that night. I thought it wouldn’t last long. The doctor’s had told me she was ready and that by midnight I should be a father. Unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way. By midnight I was a widow without a child. Something happened. Something bad. I was determined to find out what.
All of this labor we put into the earth. Growing plants, writing literature, making discoveries. What is it worth? What will happen when the world is destroyed? Is there and purpose?
I don’t like doing manual labor. I’m more of a knitting/cheesemaking sort of lad. Sometimes I dream about being a shirt sewer, but I hear that can be very time consuming and a meager living at best.
For now I’ll sit at home and make bricks out of clay and add that much needed expansion to my hut. I plan on adding another nine kids to the village so I should get to work on it right away.
labor is the the word i saw beforeon a different page i,cnat help but want to to go back and us the backspace button. drug dealers labor. they have to pay bills too. now lets start the show. has it been 60 seconds yet. oh my god if ups does not hurry i’m going to keep doing things like this. i need those shoes.
There was nothing there for her any more but labor. Hard labor. It was brutal. She had no life but her work and it hurt. No friends, no family, no joy. Nothing but labor. She cried.
people
work
mime
working
job
best
soul
heart
hard
fun
exciting
We need to work hard to get things in life. Labor can be physical, emotional, and spiritual. By putting in effort, our tasks come to fruition and we can enjoy our work. We drive eachother to work harder, working as a team is where it’s at!
Work
i dunno this word well :(
people
I labor under the delusion that I am getting somewhere in life….maybe just my love life. I seem to go back and forth between decision and non. I guess you could call it a labor of love? It is definitely taxing. But fun.
When she went into labor she started laughing. Her water broke in the dry goods aisle and all she could think about was the damage done to the rice on the bottom shelf. She wondered if the store would write it off, or if somehow, she would be made to pay. Envisioned herself writing a cheque while squeezing out this infernal baby parasite about to make itself apparent.
The workers stood outside refusing to go inside the factory. It was strike day.
It is what my mother went through to allow me to enter the world. It is something that had a 1 in a billion chance of happening leading to me.
What a crazy thing that is. How unique am I? If one part of my genes has been different i would not be who I am.
labour is a thing that one would do when they were working. this sentence may not actually make physical sense, but that’s the whole point of labour isn’t it? i don’t know that it is, really, but i have to ask. i also don’t have much to say about labour to be honest, because i don’t work much.
I want to experience labor…I want a child so badly, i don’t care how much it hurts. I wish everyone would stop telling me I’m too young. I want a baby; a child to take care of and be responsible for. I want to know I brought life into this world.
the labor of love, what does it mean? I’ve grown up with the idea of labor as something hard, something to work through, something proletarian, with a tinge of propaganda attached. And then I come to the States and I hear about the labor of love. Surely love shouldn’t be laborious, surely it’s something better than wielding a hoe and a hammer in a hot field.
I work in a field filled with beautiful lavender. I see the sun in the horizon and I enjoy it’s beauty as I see the birds fly off in the sky. It becomes darker. As the sun sets, I realize the real beauty of the natural world. I feel at peace. Part of the earth. I feel one with myself.
Many people work as labor. Normally, they get paid by hour. They work hard and sometimes, it hard to find a job. During this economic cri
I remember being in labor once. Wait no i don’t, I’m a man. men don’t have to deal with labor.
adorable that the child soon to become a sister thought mom was growing a chicken in her tummy when she saw the baby on an ultrasound. everything is adorable about this young family growing. well, not the labour and throwing up part. (labour. i’m canadian)
The grapes of wrath. They labored and labored and labored and they never got what they wanted. In the end, the reader is left hopeless. Is there hope in working hard? I wonder if this is how life is going to be in the year 2010 too. There is no reward for hard work anymore.
Labor is nothing. Labor is myth. We work and toil, and in the end we have nothing to show for it. Maybe a house, maybe security, but no joy, no peace. And what of those who labor for nothing. Labor for minimum wage; labor for the American dream that will never come to fruition?
Labor is what we ascribe to ourselves. It’s honor, it’s what makes us feel important and, ultimately, worthwhile. Without labor we are nothing, or so we think. We are wrong.
labor is my relationship with myself. it is hard, it hurts. i do not hate myself but at the same time i do despise myself and the choices i make.
the pains of bringing a child into the world. or is it really pains? a new being, created by you, grows in your womb.
labor is what you do when you dont have a career. its what you do when you have a job. when you work for a living, a mediocre, measly living.
It was horrible, back breaking work, or so Cera thought at least. “Gwen you’ve got to be kidding me.” She whined brandishing the scrub-brush. “Stop complaining. This is your mess too.”
labor rules, regulations. why so important? think back 100 years. look at the horrible conditions that the lower class were forced to work in. on instance the triangle shirtwaist factory.
you are such a history geek he said.
i smiled and nodded “so what?”
work
the girl was tired of her labor. everyday she is subjected to the toils of a working class women. Never really able to finish school, labor was her destiny. To labor, to sweat, and to cry. She wishes for her family but with that money and what time. She wants to get married but with what money and what time. These people on the tv flashing their vaginas, cheating on their husbands, snorting cocaine. If only she could have the luxury of not giving a fuck.
child labor laws: good
prime minister of malaysia: bad
love. work. life. child. gratitude.
A Labor of love, TO labor in the fields. To go into labor. These are some of the meanings of labor. Labor can be something difficult for e.g. something laborious. To be-labor a point is
hard times
large success
rewarding
life long
arduous
challenging
annoying
child birth
money
overtime
labor is painful, torturous work. wel i suppose it depends on the kind of labor. some, I’m told, are far more painful than others. Sometimes it’s simply work, sometimes it’s the delivery of a life. It’s a pesky thing, labor.
I like to labour through a book, especially a juicy one. I gather facts, look at the information from different angles. Some facts are difficult to digest, other facts push the barriers and I want to slam the book shut but I don’t!
Labour is too much. Every day is a labour sentence. Breathing is Labour. Getting on a bus and travelling. All activities take energy, take labour. I labour in my sleep. I visit other kingdoms to meet The Lord.
It’s hard labor, doing what I do. Hard labor and long hours and inhumane conditions, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not that you’d find a lot of people willing to trade places with me. Whenever I’ve found myself time to relax and lay back, I always get anxious, nervous even, and I have to gof ind something to do. So, this is Heaven for me.
Someone once said, “Learning without understanding is labor lost.”
She went into labor around nine o’clock that night. I thought it wouldn’t last long. The doctor’s had told me she was ready and that by midnight I should be a father. Unfortunately it didn’t turn out that way. By midnight I was a widow without a child. Something happened. Something bad. I was determined to find out what.
All of this labor we put into the earth. Growing plants, writing literature, making discoveries. What is it worth? What will happen when the world is destroyed? Is there and purpose?
The child who sits in the dark, musty air of the depressing and monotonous factory thinks about the lives of other children his age.
I don’t like doing manual labor. I’m more of a knitting/cheesemaking sort of lad. Sometimes I dream about being a shirt sewer, but I hear that can be very time consuming and a meager living at best.
For now I’ll sit at home and make bricks out of clay and add that much needed expansion to my hut. I plan on adding another nine kids to the village so I should get to work on it right away.
He moves with ease through nighttime alleyways, gliding through a slipstream of silky blackness without labor. He