There are millions of thoughts swarming, buzzing, inside my head. Anxieties about tomorrow, next week, next year. Did I do my chemistry homework? Am I going to get my project finished on time? Can I pass next year’s finals? But whenever you walk into the room, I feel calm. You are my rock, and if I hold on tight enough, I will never be lost.
There are millions of thoughts swarming, buzzing, inside my head. And you make them all fall silent as an august night.
Millions of tiny lights float around inside my head. Millions of thoughts circle, colorful and bright. Some are dark though and sad, but that’s just life.
millions of dollars, millions of lives lost. It is pointless to aim for this, for everyone eventually dies. And when we die, can we enjoy the legacies we leave behind? What even is a legacy, for is the memory of us worth fighting for? Perhaps some vague thing about inspiring people, who will eventually die too. Dust to dust. So they can then inspire others?
we all know that hardships occur in our daily lives. amidst of all the these hardships, we have the millions of reasons on why we must face these hardships. there are people who are lost in finding for those reasons but i believe that one day, they will be able to find it. it may be difficult and frustrating that’s why i pray that they find strength and hope. there are millions of reasons why we should live this life that we are blessed with.
there were millions of stars in the sky that night. there hadn’t been that many the night before. they had grown and they had grown in celebration if Elliot and Liv’s engagement. because they were two people who had gotten engaged for the sole purpose of making all the single people feel jealous. when the engagement acually didn’t change anything within their relationship. it was just one way to make a fuss.
Como si estuvieras atascado en lo más profundo de mi mente, te he pensado un millón de veces, pero aún así, con la ayuda de esta palabra, el bloqueo parece ser cada vez más interno y desesperante.
There were millions of tiny little lights; particles scattered throughout the world. I couldn’t think of anything or anyone at that moment in time I was so consumed by the beauty of it all.
Millions upon millions die every day, millions upon millions are born every day, and here we are, seated on our thrones of glass, the world below us, nothing above us but the clouds. We are stronger than we know, and yet we choose to die alone, choose to shut ourselves behind walls of self-hatred and doubt, choose to hide behind the backs of our golden glass thrones.
‘Just jiving, keeping happy. What about you?’
In the millions of people talking at that moment, this voice came through loud and clear. It was as if the universe had paused to make room for it. I would recognise Jarold’s voice anywhere, his particular mix of cynicism and parody was unmistakable, the snotty tone sliced through the quiet interlude and I turned and saw him watching me.
The mutuality of my apartment’s mundane garden
that waves hello, and high fives me, is left hanging
oftentimes when the winds of pertinent desires
blow me off into my vehicle.
One day though, a host, of golden daisy’s, prostrates my attention.
Were they daisies? or were they daffodils?
Whomever they be, they began to dance like a salsa club amplifier.
A neighbor’s child prances by, and gesticulates, ” daisy”,
pointing at the seemingly mundane garden. A lizard walks on through,
as green as can be, beckons I lean in for a closer look.
Everyday thereafter, when I walked by, I now knew Daisies were planted
there, right in front of my speedy-on the go pupils.
There are millions of them aligned in rows. Pathways we shall call them.
Pity he was not one of them: an animal born to be comfortable in its own skin.
There are millions who are in every walk of life: comfortable.
And then there are those who are very much not. Whether it is of their own making or forced upon them, clearly, no one really knows. The worst will just assume they do and carry on with business. Wrapped up like babies, both caressed and bound by trivial comforts, they attach onto these power structures that guarantee them security for their continued silence. So they build whole networks and relationships on these patterns of willful blindness and consumption.
It is with these hands I rock the bough none too gently…
There are millions of people like you and me who visit these cemeteries on Memorial Day. They leave flowers and gifts; they say prayers under their breath and ignore the grass stains left on their legs after they’ve knelt. There are veterans who salute each other from their spots by the graves, and honestly, it’s hard to remember sometimes – how much they’ve sacrificed for this country while it slowly erodes all freedom.
Milhões de pontos. Milhões de viagens. Milhões de experiências. São tantos milhões que a vida consegue nos proporcionar, cabe a você saber escolher de como gostaria de aproveitá-los.
It’s kind of hard to think about the fact that there are so many people in the universe. They’re all over, they’re sick and dying and being born and having birthdays and parties and drinking every second. There are people doing great things and there are people doing terrible things, too. I don’t know why I hate it, but I can’t help myself.
How many years ago was it that he stopped keeping a count? It was natural to not bother. Although every single one hurt, he remembered almost all of it, at least since he started *working*, he didn’t count.
The worth of all those prizes, those “measures” supposed to stop him, the numbers of ideas in his head, and audience coming to see it, at least to their little screens…
There are millions of thoughts swarming, buzzing, inside my head. Anxieties about tomorrow, next week, next year. Did I do my chemistry homework? Am I going to get my project finished on time? Can I pass next year’s finals? But whenever you walk into the room, I feel calm. You are my rock, and if I hold on tight enough, I will never be lost.
There are millions of thoughts swarming, buzzing, inside my head. And you make them all fall silent as an august night.
Millions of tiny lights float around inside my head. Millions of thoughts circle, colorful and bright. Some are dark though and sad, but that’s just life.
Millions and billions of Jehovah’s witnesses around the world are helping people of different backgrounds come to know Jehovah God.
millions of dollars, millions of lives lost. It is pointless to aim for this, for everyone eventually dies. And when we die, can we enjoy the legacies we leave behind? What even is a legacy, for is the memory of us worth fighting for? Perhaps some vague thing about inspiring people, who will eventually die too. Dust to dust. So they can then inspire others?
we all know that hardships occur in our daily lives. amidst of all the these hardships, we have the millions of reasons on why we must face these hardships. there are people who are lost in finding for those reasons but i believe that one day, they will be able to find it. it may be difficult and frustrating that’s why i pray that they find strength and hope. there are millions of reasons why we should live this life that we are blessed with.
milions of people have a house
there were millions of stars in the sky that night. there hadn’t been that many the night before. they had grown and they had grown in celebration if Elliot and Liv’s engagement. because they were two people who had gotten engaged for the sole purpose of making all the single people feel jealous. when the engagement acually didn’t change anything within their relationship. it was just one way to make a fuss.
Como si estuvieras atascado en lo más profundo de mi mente, te he pensado un millón de veces, pero aún así, con la ayuda de esta palabra, el bloqueo parece ser cada vez más interno y desesperante.
There were millions of tiny little lights; particles scattered throughout the world. I couldn’t think of anything or anyone at that moment in time I was so consumed by the beauty of it all.
Millions upon millions die every day, millions upon millions are born every day, and here we are, seated on our thrones of glass, the world below us, nothing above us but the clouds. We are stronger than we know, and yet we choose to die alone, choose to shut ourselves behind walls of self-hatred and doubt, choose to hide behind the backs of our golden glass thrones.
‘Just jiving, keeping happy. What about you?’
In the millions of people talking at that moment, this voice came through loud and clear. It was as if the universe had paused to make room for it. I would recognise Jarold’s voice anywhere, his particular mix of cynicism and parody was unmistakable, the snotty tone sliced through the quiet interlude and I turned and saw him watching me.
Millions of them lined up on the streets, but not one made a noise. An impossible feat? maybe
The principle isn’t to artificially turn out to be effective, adedkdeeacdb
The mutuality of my apartment’s mundane garden
that waves hello, and high fives me, is left hanging
oftentimes when the winds of pertinent desires
blow me off into my vehicle.
One day though, a host, of golden daisy’s, prostrates my attention.
Were they daisies? or were they daffodils?
Whomever they be, they began to dance like a salsa club amplifier.
A neighbor’s child prances by, and gesticulates, ” daisy”,
pointing at the seemingly mundane garden. A lizard walks on through,
as green as can be, beckons I lean in for a closer look.
Everyday thereafter, when I walked by, I now knew Daisies were planted
there, right in front of my speedy-on the go pupils.
There are millions of them aligned in rows. Pathways we shall call them.
Pity he was not one of them: an animal born to be comfortable in its own skin.
There are millions who are in every walk of life: comfortable.
And then there are those who are very much not. Whether it is of their own making or forced upon them, clearly, no one really knows. The worst will just assume they do and carry on with business. Wrapped up like babies, both caressed and bound by trivial comforts, they attach onto these power structures that guarantee them security for their continued silence. So they build whole networks and relationships on these patterns of willful blindness and consumption.
It is with these hands I rock the bough none too gently…
There are millions of people like you and me who visit these cemeteries on Memorial Day. They leave flowers and gifts; they say prayers under their breath and ignore the grass stains left on their legs after they’ve knelt. There are veterans who salute each other from their spots by the graves, and honestly, it’s hard to remember sometimes – how much they’ve sacrificed for this country while it slowly erodes all freedom.
Milhões de pontos. Milhões de viagens. Milhões de experiências. São tantos milhões que a vida consegue nos proporcionar, cabe a você saber escolher de como gostaria de aproveitá-los.
It’s kind of hard to think about the fact that there are so many people in the universe. They’re all over, they’re sick and dying and being born and having birthdays and parties and drinking every second. There are people doing great things and there are people doing terrible things, too. I don’t know why I hate it, but I can’t help myself.
How many years ago was it that he stopped keeping a count? It was natural to not bother. Although every single one hurt, he remembered almost all of it, at least since he started *working*, he didn’t count.
Many thanks to millions who supported me writing this book successfully.
The worth of all those prizes, those “measures” supposed to stop him, the numbers of ideas in his head, and audience coming to see it, at least to their little screens…