My quest is for love. Nothing less, nothing else will do. Whether it’s self-love or love of another, somehow I have to uncover what’s there inside me to give away. This is a lifelong ambition stronger than any otehr desire.
She was on a quest, a journey to find her father. He’d disappeared when she was younger and she’d always wondered what had happened to him. So off she went after laying her mother to rest after the sickness that had plagued her for years had finally claimed her.
This was the word yesterday… quest quest quest. I refuse to continue with this quest for happiness and something meaningful. I think I forgot my happiness when I woke up this morning. Or maybe the first time I learned about the word rape.
Quest. John Egbert lies dead on his quest bed, He is the Heir of Breath. He will [S]:Ascend to god tier and wear cool blue breathy god tier pajamas. Yup. Sup, bro.
As a child I thought I knew where I wanted to go as I grew up, but as i grew up I began to be unsure. Now I’m on a quest to find purpose of my life, purpose that is ever changing, my quest never ending. Today i want to be someone, tomorrow I will want to be in love, someday I will want to die, but the point of all the above states my path clearly, my quest is to be happy, wherever that leads me.
“I’m on a quest to save the princess. Don’t try to stop me, or I’ll be the one in your way. I’ll climb over every mountaintop and search for her if I have to. Do I have a crush on her or something? Ewww, no…! Girls have cooties!”
He trekked on, barren wasteland and endless landscape barreling on in front of him like the scrolls of old, rolled out for all to see, some to read, many to conquer.
Hundred’s of thousands of strong men quietly knelt this morning, making their confessions, hovering over the merciful verses of the bible, not forbidding their tears to stain the well marked pages. Troubled, the ground we’ve surrendered, the unwanted guests we’ve invited into our house because of compromise and half-heartedness, can be and must be reclaimed. Game not over. No illusions here. I deny myself. I rebuke my secret selfishness. Evil forces of darkness, on their fairhful quest have seen right through my witness, my insincerity, but I demand, they once again, notice the cross of the Lord, Jesus. Dave…spectacle to the world.
quest for home. that’s the theme of my life, i guess. I’ve been searching for home without success for far. but i will, in the near future. no solid grounds for the idea, but i’m sure i will.
I’ve always wanted to write a story about a quest. It seems like a fascinating thing to do. I’m afraid it would get too boring though, as a lot of my writing ends up pretty boring and an adventure story just can’t do that. Maybe I could turn my 2011 NaNoWriMo novel into one.
The Morality Core was installed into GLaDOS by a guy on a quest to save the world from the hungry cannibalistic potatoes. The cannibalistic potatoes were a problem because they ate all the regular potatoes, so no one could have mashed potatoes or French fries anymore. So GLaDOS killed all the potatoes with neurotoxin.
Questing myself, launching myself into your body. Falling short of a new relationship with you. Realizing what she said was true. “I just define love on being able to do nothing for a really long time and be completely comfortable, I can do that with him.” “That’s love, idiot.”
i have been on a quest for awhile. I never quite remember what i’m looking for but i know its important. I just wish i wasn’t alone in it. But, every journey must ultimately be made alone. at least thats what they say. most of the time.
Brin came to me when I felt I needed a trip. But not just any trip. I’d tried those, but they never seemed to quite fit. But then Brin showed up, and I began slightly regretting my earlier dreams of adventure.
“It’s just this big quest, you know?” she whispered, voice low and smooth. She lay spread out on the grass beside him, the pair staring upward into the infinite oblivion of space, at hundreds of thousands of twinkling stars that shone on, heedless of the pair watching them countless miles away on a tiny chunk of rock in a tiny system on a tiny arm of a tiny galaxy that spun and spun and spun without a care into eternity, just like every other infinitesimally small thing on small thing on small thing that made up every dark corner of the vastness of space did, ceaselessly and into eternity. The studded veil of the night sky seemed both impossibly close and incredibly far, warm yet cold, comforting yet forbidding. Her voice was hushed as though afraid to speak in its presence, in the tremendous, unimaginable gift of being here to witness the grandeur of space at night at this particular speck in time, this one singular singularity of being that could be claimed by no one else, witnessed by no one else, experienced by no one else at no other juncture in the entire course of eternity, forward and backward. “Life, it’s just this one big quest. We define it and then we run out and reach for it and take it, and it’s all we can do. That’s all that we have, just here, just now, just our short allotment of time to complete our quest. And that’s it.” He didn’t reply to her, didn’t disturb the small spirals of mist from their breaths ascending into the void above, just lay there and felt the universe spin.
There are men who want women, and men who want to be women, and women who want men, and women who want other women, and the men who were previously men but are now the women desired by the women desiring other women. When we are children our feelings feel heartbreakingly surreal because through the course of our short little lives we haven’t lived long enough to describe the indescribable. We know tiny little pangs of lust; or how could lust live in tiny little bodies so pure? We are bursting at the seams for each other with a feeling we have no hope of ever understanding. And then we see chapels and dresses and ties and bands of metal — ignore people digging in caves for rocks and for their lives — so we can slip some gold onto someone’s finger and say, I do plan to take out all of my aggression on you when things don’t work out, I do plan to blame you for my failures, I do plan to commit adultery, I do think I love you, but I’m realizing now in this instant that I’m making a terrible, terrible mistake. But then, sometimes, in spite of our growing bigger, that tiny little fire rises inside of us and fills us full of love the way smoke fills a burning house. Sometimes we say what we mean and we mean what we say and we think back to those Dr. Seuss books and can’t explain why but we know that one fish is alone and two fish are happy and the blue fish is blue because he’s despondent because he too is one fish, alone in an ocean we haven’t even explored a fraction of, and we refer to the middle, which doesn’t mean complacency necessarily in the way of stagnancy, but rather that, perhaps now that we’re happy, we can focus on the things in our lives and others that actual matter. Or maybe it doesn’t mean any of those things: Maybe it’s just a test to see how long we can make a promise regarding something miniature that none of us grew up enough to really understand; that small feeling that stayed small because it felt better that way — something pure, and unfinished, and indescribable.
Yesterday it felt as if he left with me a part of his soul. He leaves on what he says are very important quests that are mandatory, but I don’t see the strength of it in his step. He walks lightly and nonchalantly, and I don’t believe his words.
It didn’t take too long, to find what we needed. A teddy bear or two, a blanket and a basket. All in all, successful. And now? Now all we needed was the perfect spot. Upon a hill, under a tree, beside a river blue. Perfect again. We laughed, you and I. Our quests always did end like this.
“I have a quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far…” Aaack! That stupid song had been going through her head for six straight days now and if it didn’t stop soon, she was going to have to listen to Louie, Louie. It was about the only song she could think of that was worse.
starting out simple – the walk in the park – that becomes more challenging with each step away from the familiar and toward the unknown. what lies within is as important as what lies ahead. what was left behind is never forgotten.
He shouted ‘quest’ Her face screwed up with utter miscomprehension. ” what quest” He shouted across the stage again “crest” and she finally understood. She felt stupid and hated him for this latest attention drawing blunder.
Forget the quest. Forget everything! How does she expect me to help her with this quest when she’s being so stubborn?
“I think we go this way,” she smiled. Gross.
“Good thinking” I smiled back. I can’t let this happen. She’s so pushy.
don’t think. just write. i want to write about the journey i have this summer. not a vacation, not the usual journey people might think of, but the journey i’ll take to try and find what i’m good at. the quest for myself.
I’ve been reading The Lost Hero. Piper, Jason, and Leo are taking a quest to save Hera. She’s been trapped by some giant. Well anyways, Jason has forgotten every memory he had so he needs Hera to give it back. Piper was fooled by the mist and thought Jason was her boyfriend. And Leo’s mother was killed by Tia callida who was actually Hera… and he’s actually going on a quest trying to save her…. What a surprise
The quest for the holy grail. The quest for life. The quest for purpose.
Whatever your quest, you live in pursuit of that quest and your life is not complete until you accomplish your goal. For some, it is to get a high paying job, for some it is to finish college, for some it is to be a parent. My quest, is my life, and I am always inventing my quest. Although, I wouldnt mind having a high paying job, finishing college, and being a parent.
Maybe Black Mesa would helpm me out on my quest. GLaDOS didn’t think so. Apparently it was a joke. At least I have cake. I’d better have cake because it’s a required key item on this quest. Except it’s not a key item; it’s possible to sell the cake and then the quest will be impossible to complete.
The word quest is becoming like the musical note, in the way it gets its treatment from video games. The way MIDI turned the note into a register, a relativity, confined it and gave it its contemporary parameters, so quest has taken on a name, a boundary, with objective and reward. And who has to reclaim it? Shining knights, or writers of fairy tales?
The hydra’s head was within his grasp, out here in this desolate dungeon of worms and decrepit walking corpses, his quest had been to rescue his princess but things weren’t quite what he had hoped. The age of bed-time stories in done, the girl had been beaten and molested. That is how one would end up nowadays, we don’t like to hide facts, our fantasy’s are not immune to the cruelty of human beings.
a quest.
a question.
a solution.
an answer.
quest.
prophesy.
danger.
quest.
My quest is for love. Nothing less, nothing else will do. Whether it’s self-love or love of another, somehow I have to uncover what’s there inside me to give away. This is a lifelong ambition stronger than any otehr desire.
She was on a quest, a journey to find her father. He’d disappeared when she was younger and she’d always wondered what had happened to him. So off she went after laying her mother to rest after the sickness that had plagued her for years had finally claimed her.
This was the word yesterday… quest quest quest. I refuse to continue with this quest for happiness and something meaningful. I think I forgot my happiness when I woke up this morning. Or maybe the first time I learned about the word rape.
Quest. John Egbert lies dead on his quest bed, He is the Heir of Breath. He will [S]:Ascend to god tier and wear cool blue breathy god tier pajamas. Yup. Sup, bro.
ionosphere
it s enough
to much time
haiku
stop the time
i wanna get out
wrong fields
nameless
here I go again
whitesnake
i m tired of having sex
As a child I thought I knew where I wanted to go as I grew up, but as i grew up I began to be unsure. Now I’m on a quest to find purpose of my life, purpose that is ever changing, my quest never ending. Today i want to be someone, tomorrow I will want to be in love, someday I will want to die, but the point of all the above states my path clearly, my quest is to be happy, wherever that leads me.
I am on a quest to find myself, said she.
Yet he scoffed at it, thinking it was merely one of the many superficial and pretentious thoughts of the pseudo-philosophical of today’s generations.
But he was wrong. Because while he wasted his time trying to laugh at her adventures, she still had her adventures, while he had none.
WHO CHOSE THIS DAMN WORD. I CAN’T WRITE VAGUELY ABOUT THIS.
FFUUUUU
“I’m on a quest to save the princess. Don’t try to stop me, or I’ll be the one in your way. I’ll climb over every mountaintop and search for her if I have to. Do I have a crush on her or something? Ewww, no…! Girls have cooties!”
Nobility. Honour. Valour. Justice.
He trekked on, barren wasteland and endless landscape barreling on in front of him like the scrolls of old, rolled out for all to see, some to read, many to conquer.
Blood. Death. Hatred. Vengeance.
His quest was far from over.
Hundred’s of thousands of strong men quietly knelt this morning, making their confessions, hovering over the merciful verses of the bible, not forbidding their tears to stain the well marked pages. Troubled, the ground we’ve surrendered, the unwanted guests we’ve invited into our house because of compromise and half-heartedness, can be and must be reclaimed. Game not over. No illusions here. I deny myself. I rebuke my secret selfishness. Evil forces of darkness, on their fairhful quest have seen right through my witness, my insincerity, but I demand, they once again, notice the cross of the Lord, Jesus. Dave…spectacle to the world.
“We can name it the ‘great quest to save humanity’,” Nathaniel laughs, using his fingers to make quotes in the air as he speaks.
The others join him, but none of them know how deep his words run.
Only I know that it will take more than what we have to save us all.
His smile falters when his eyes meet mine. He’s putting on a show for everyone but me.
every question begins with one.
quest for home. that’s the theme of my life, i guess. I’ve been searching for home without success for far. but i will, in the near future. no solid grounds for the idea, but i’m sure i will.
I’ve always wanted to write a story about a quest. It seems like a fascinating thing to do. I’m afraid it would get too boring though, as a lot of my writing ends up pretty boring and an adventure story just can’t do that. Maybe I could turn my 2011 NaNoWriMo novel into one.
This is a quest, every day making the best.
Every day making it better, down to the letter.
It is a micro quest, not Don Quixote-esque.
The Morality Core was installed into GLaDOS by a guy on a quest to save the world from the hungry cannibalistic potatoes. The cannibalistic potatoes were a problem because they ate all the regular potatoes, so no one could have mashed potatoes or French fries anymore. So GLaDOS killed all the potatoes with neurotoxin.
My quest had at the beggining been about finding the treasure, but now it’s my about finding the love I had lost, this was so much more important
Questing myself, launching myself into your body. Falling short of a new relationship with you. Realizing what she said was true. “I just define love on being able to do nothing for a really long time and be completely comfortable, I can do that with him.” “That’s love, idiot.”
i have been on a quest for awhile. I never quite remember what i’m looking for but i know its important. I just wish i wasn’t alone in it. But, every journey must ultimately be made alone. at least thats what they say. most of the time.
Brin came to me when I felt I needed a trip. But not just any trip. I’d tried those, but they never seemed to quite fit. But then Brin showed up, and I began slightly regretting my earlier dreams of adventure.
“It’s just this big quest, you know?” she whispered, voice low and smooth. She lay spread out on the grass beside him, the pair staring upward into the infinite oblivion of space, at hundreds of thousands of twinkling stars that shone on, heedless of the pair watching them countless miles away on a tiny chunk of rock in a tiny system on a tiny arm of a tiny galaxy that spun and spun and spun without a care into eternity, just like every other infinitesimally small thing on small thing on small thing that made up every dark corner of the vastness of space did, ceaselessly and into eternity. The studded veil of the night sky seemed both impossibly close and incredibly far, warm yet cold, comforting yet forbidding. Her voice was hushed as though afraid to speak in its presence, in the tremendous, unimaginable gift of being here to witness the grandeur of space at night at this particular speck in time, this one singular singularity of being that could be claimed by no one else, witnessed by no one else, experienced by no one else at no other juncture in the entire course of eternity, forward and backward. “Life, it’s just this one big quest. We define it and then we run out and reach for it and take it, and it’s all we can do. That’s all that we have, just here, just now, just our short allotment of time to complete our quest. And that’s it.” He didn’t reply to her, didn’t disturb the small spirals of mist from their breaths ascending into the void above, just lay there and felt the universe spin.
There are men who want women, and men who want to be women, and women who want men, and women who want other women, and the men who were previously men but are now the women desired by the women desiring other women. When we are children our feelings feel heartbreakingly surreal because through the course of our short little lives we haven’t lived long enough to describe the indescribable. We know tiny little pangs of lust; or how could lust live in tiny little bodies so pure? We are bursting at the seams for each other with a feeling we have no hope of ever understanding. And then we see chapels and dresses and ties and bands of metal — ignore people digging in caves for rocks and for their lives — so we can slip some gold onto someone’s finger and say, I do plan to take out all of my aggression on you when things don’t work out, I do plan to blame you for my failures, I do plan to commit adultery, I do think I love you, but I’m realizing now in this instant that I’m making a terrible, terrible mistake. But then, sometimes, in spite of our growing bigger, that tiny little fire rises inside of us and fills us full of love the way smoke fills a burning house. Sometimes we say what we mean and we mean what we say and we think back to those Dr. Seuss books and can’t explain why but we know that one fish is alone and two fish are happy and the blue fish is blue because he’s despondent because he too is one fish, alone in an ocean we haven’t even explored a fraction of, and we refer to the middle, which doesn’t mean complacency necessarily in the way of stagnancy, but rather that, perhaps now that we’re happy, we can focus on the things in our lives and others that actual matter. Or maybe it doesn’t mean any of those things: Maybe it’s just a test to see how long we can make a promise regarding something miniature that none of us grew up enough to really understand; that small feeling that stayed small because it felt better that way — something pure, and unfinished, and indescribable.
In a quest for more understanding of how technology works in my brain. Is the minute up yet? I hope so. Too shy to write these things seriously.
I do need the practice, perhaps I’ve gotten too comfortable. Time to strap on the wings and set out on the next Next. I feel ready. I’m off!
Yesterday it felt as if he left with me a part of his soul. He leaves on what he says are very important quests that are mandatory, but I don’t see the strength of it in his step. He walks lightly and nonchalantly, and I don’t believe his words.
It didn’t take too long, to find what we needed. A teddy bear or two, a blanket and a basket. All in all, successful. And now? Now all we needed was the perfect spot. Upon a hill, under a tree, beside a river blue. Perfect again. We laughed, you and I. Our quests always did end like this.
There, a boy with the cane, left his cot tae and set off to his quest. The carried his cup, a journal, food for 2 weeks and his grand father’s cane.
“I have a quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far…” Aaack! That stupid song had been going through her head for six straight days now and if it didn’t stop soon, she was going to have to listen to Louie, Louie. It was about the only song she could think of that was worse.
starting out simple – the walk in the park – that becomes more challenging with each step away from the familiar and toward the unknown. what lies within is as important as what lies ahead. what was left behind is never forgotten.
He shouted ‘quest’ Her face screwed up with utter miscomprehension. ” what quest” He shouted across the stage again “crest” and she finally understood. She felt stupid and hated him for this latest attention drawing blunder.
you will find it
Forget the quest. Forget everything! How does she expect me to help her with this quest when she’s being so stubborn?
“I think we go this way,” she smiled. Gross.
“Good thinking” I smiled back. I can’t let this happen. She’s so pushy.
don’t think. just write. i want to write about the journey i have this summer. not a vacation, not the usual journey people might think of, but the journey i’ll take to try and find what i’m good at. the quest for myself.
I’ve been reading The Lost Hero. Piper, Jason, and Leo are taking a quest to save Hera. She’s been trapped by some giant. Well anyways, Jason has forgotten every memory he had so he needs Hera to give it back. Piper was fooled by the mist and thought Jason was her boyfriend. And Leo’s mother was killed by Tia callida who was actually Hera… and he’s actually going on a quest trying to save her…. What a surprise
The quest for the holy grail. The quest for life. The quest for purpose.
Whatever your quest, you live in pursuit of that quest and your life is not complete until you accomplish your goal. For some, it is to get a high paying job, for some it is to finish college, for some it is to be a parent. My quest, is my life, and I am always inventing my quest. Although, I wouldnt mind having a high paying job, finishing college, and being a parent.
Maybe Black Mesa would helpm me out on my quest. GLaDOS didn’t think so. Apparently it was a joke. At least I have cake. I’d better have cake because it’s a required key item on this quest. Except it’s not a key item; it’s possible to sell the cake and then the quest will be impossible to complete.
The word quest is becoming like the musical note, in the way it gets its treatment from video games. The way MIDI turned the note into a register, a relativity, confined it and gave it its contemporary parameters, so quest has taken on a name, a boundary, with objective and reward. And who has to reclaim it? Shining knights, or writers of fairy tales?
The hydra’s head was within his grasp, out here in this desolate dungeon of worms and decrepit walking corpses, his quest had been to rescue his princess but things weren’t quite what he had hoped. The age of bed-time stories in done, the girl had been beaten and molested. That is how one would end up nowadays, we don’t like to hide facts, our fantasy’s are not immune to the cruelty of human beings.