Modern medicine has come a long way, but let me tell you something that has been overlooked for far too long: The power of the mind. It has the ability to affect psychologically and physiologically. It has the ability to put you in a different place. It can be used for fun or function; telling a tale, or by overcoming adversity. It has the ability to be the strongest muscle in your body if you let it. Please let it.
Why do you always have to start a new project every day. Can’t you finish the ones you’ve started first? What are these tales you keep telling about not having enough time? Clearly, you have time in abundance. You just have to organize it.
There was once a tale of Little Red Riding Hood. She was a small girl who’s grandmother lived on the opposite side of a deep, dark forest. On her way to grandmother’s, Little Red Riding Hood was stalked by a big bad Wolf. This is a classic Tale of a young girl’s naive behavior, and a wolf’s cunning smarts to suffice his hungry appetite.
A tale i believe is something that was made up to teach someone a life lesson. The tale of ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’ is a story about a boy who tells the town, as a joke, that the wolf is coming and he gets them all worked up and then they find out the wolf was not coming. Over time, the boy continues to replay the joke and everytime the town falls for it and comes running to the rescue. Finally, the last time the boy “cries wolf” no one came to his help and no one thought he was serious so the wolf ended up eating the boy. This tale kelps children realize not to lie and not to make up stories, and never take something serious and make it in a joke.
All we live for is to tell the tale of our lives to our future generation. One day maybe they wont make the same mistakes we did. Maybe one day we will gather up all the advice our ancestors have passed down and live in peace one day.
There once was a bear who lived in the woods.
He was 8 feet tall, fat and brown.
He was king of the forest, and wore a large crown.
He talked and danced, almost ripping his pants.
He wore red and white,
it was a great sight.
He clapped his hands, and pattered his paws,
He is the fairytale King, dancing in the raw.
My brother has always been a teller of tale tales. He remininced about fishing trips that never happen, conversations that could never have taken place, and people who had never met. He wrote stories about family members dying for English class, making his pregnant teacher sob, all the while he had never been to a funeral. He told his friends he’d met the president. He asked how come no one believed him. And my mother bore his wild imagination with quiet understanding, telling his teachers if they believed only have of what he said of her, she’d believe only half of what he said of them.
live to tell the tale is a song by the band called passion pit that i love. (you should listen to it sometime)! i love when people tell me tales, i am so interested. and lily doesn’t like this project, so she mocks me. good bye !
Dragon Tales, that show my little brother and sister used to watch all the time. It was about these two kids who were magically transported to Dragon Land, a place filled with dragons. Not mean dragons; nice dragons, cartoon dragons, ones who let you climb on their backs and fly into the sky. That’s all I remember, except there was one dragon who had two heads. I used to think how horrible it would be to have another person share my body. I really think I would go crazy.
I wonder if Dragon Tales is still on TV.
Let me tell you a story, a tale if you will. It’s a great little story with a fabulous plot. I heard it from a friend a few years ago while sitting around a campfire in the middle of the woods. It was freezing that night – the wind was absolutly bone-chilling . . . Huh? Oh, I can’t remember the story I wanted to tell. Oh well.
I’d like to tell you a tale of love. A new love. A fresh love. A love that one would hope would last a lifetime. But the thing with tales is that you never know whether or not to believe them.
Fairy Tales make me dream and drive me to a distant place. I love to imagine my self on adventures, journeys, conquests etc. They give me a place where I can experience being some one completely different.
a tale of a princess in a castle always has a prince, but can the prince be a charmer or a dog? Can the princess always find true love? what if the stepmother wins? what if the prince charming met angelina Jolie, is it still a fairy tale ever after? A tale of a women falling in love is better than a fairy tale where fantasy may take over realism.
The word tale reminds me of all of the stories and movies I watched as a child. It reminds me of a fairytale, like every princess story I knew about when I was young. My mom used to tell my brother and I stories that sounded quite impossible, so we always knew she was telling a silly tale. The word tale reminds me of fairytale stories, such as Cinderella, Beaty and the Beast, etc.
there are many fairy tales written that always have great endings and very unpredictable to the reader at most times. the well known tales that i have read as a child are little red riding hood, goldie lockes, sleeping beauty, cinderella, and snow white.
when i was very young my family went on vacation with another family we were close with. we were in LBI, NJ and my mother told us a story about the “one armed coco” it was a scary story becasue we were so young and didnt know any better and right at the climax of her story our friend coco jumped out the kitchen with his arm in his shirt! he arrrrged like a pirate. The tale of one armed coco will stay with me for the rest of my life.
ii have a tale to tell about a tale on my butt. i want to go home. cure up in my bed and never wake up until its warm. why is like 0 degrees in this whole school? kill me
He told the tail….tale about something or another. I wasn’t really listening because it was in the middle of class. But who knows which was more important?
Stories were long – John didn’t have the time to tell one. There were too many people around who didn’t want to hear him, and instead of telling the tale, he simply sat and fidgeted. Not enough time to begin, not enough time to end it. “Once upon a time…”
it’s a story.
of us.
of them.
of where we’ve been
and where we’re going.
it’s forever after.
and in a land far far away.
it’s once upon a time.
awakens like sleeping beauty.
and ends happily ever after.
Here’s a test,
a test to tell the tale that is real
but fictional,
about a boy or girl,
gender isn’t an issue,
who gets lost in a storm of hale.
While it’s raining cats and dogs
she stumbles along in a fog of confusion,
waiting with bated breath for the mists of her delusion
to clear her from fear.
I remember tales of donkeys who talk and wish on magic pebbles and bears who ride the train to Boston….and I wish i still believed in magic. In a mermaid ability to turn sailors into mush with her lovely voice, in the fox who can get the chickens to willingly hop into his pot. I wish I still believed.
i tell you a tale of two lovers. it was a love so great that nothing come break it, when they were together everything else faded to grey. they were full of passion and excitement. i tell you a tale.
is a story and a way to loose yourself in something other than yourself. Once upon a time I visited a strange land of beauty and danger. Alone and happy I climbed mountains and swam rivers.
There’s a tale of a man I once knew. A collector. He’d never been a silver spoon baby or a golden boy. In fact, the only thing he had to his name were a broken cello he left baking in the sun. He once told me even sidewalks are dangerous. Just one small step away from a busy road. One small step and you’re on the news. Yet still he stumbled up the shabby concrete towards my house, singing Christmas Carols like it wasn’t July. Looking at me through homeless eyes. Searching for a reason to care.
“Oh what a tale I have to tell,” Mr. Timuppins declared as he walked into the pub. “I just met the Queen of Fairy, and she tried to get me to come live with her in the Land of the Silver Sky.” “Well now, sit down, have a pint and tell us all about it,” Maeve placed a tankard of frothy brew in front of him. “Hmph,” Benny whispered to his cohorts as they watched the exchange. “Looks like this gambit to get free beer is working like a charm.”
The tale that cannot be told is the one that will bring you to an early grave. Keeping secrets, or thoughts that may harm another will eat away at a person until they can no longer stand the stirrings of their own mind.
Im going to tell you a tale of a mystical creature named Molly. She lived in the ocean, she had green hair, and she had a fishy sent to her. If you got approached by Molly, you were allowed to have one wish. Molly would grant your wish and you would be very happy. her beautiful wings were lift her into the air and you would watch Molly float away gracefully. Then she would never be seen again.
There was a tale of a bunny in old Norwich, whose tail had been bitten off by a dog. The dog grew ears as long as a rabbit’s, and could hear all the sounds he’d missed before: the fox in the brush, the hawk high overhead. The man with the gun. These sounds terrified him now, and he ran deep into the woods, until he found a hole beneath a tree in which to hide. The bunny found him there, still trembling, and offered him this: a nip on his nose. The bunny’s teeth went deep, and the dog lie there, bleeding and howling, but the bunny had gone, the dog’s nose in his mouth, and now he could see the tracks of all the wild things in the leaves. In seven days’ time, they both arose into the night sky, and now they are bunny and dog, chasing each other across the midnight fields forever.
A tale
A tale
String a yarn- a line, let’s hear it
I want to know
Liar
We all know it’s lies
Entertaining lies…
Lies, nevertheless
Let us lie with you
We speak of tales
We speak of lies
Lying tales
That’s what we do
Why do we do it?
Liar
That’s why
We lie
Lie
Lie
No truth
Just tales
Along the tale of the fish that swam through an ocean deeper than the heavens fallen from the ages of kin, a blessed sailor did pass above with awe at the thunderous change of wit and whim.
Ever since I was a kid, I would often listen to different tales. It amazes how a simple woman would eventually marry the man of her dreams. But then, I realized as I grew older, that not everyone has a fairytale ending.
Modern medicine has come a long way, but let me tell you something that has been overlooked for far too long: The power of the mind. It has the ability to affect psychologically and physiologically. It has the ability to put you in a different place. It can be used for fun or function; telling a tale, or by overcoming adversity. It has the ability to be the strongest muscle in your body if you let it. Please let it.
Why do you always have to start a new project every day. Can’t you finish the ones you’ve started first? What are these tales you keep telling about not having enough time? Clearly, you have time in abundance. You just have to organize it.
There was once a tale of Little Red Riding Hood. She was a small girl who’s grandmother lived on the opposite side of a deep, dark forest. On her way to grandmother’s, Little Red Riding Hood was stalked by a big bad Wolf. This is a classic Tale of a young girl’s naive behavior, and a wolf’s cunning smarts to suffice his hungry appetite.
A tale i believe is something that was made up to teach someone a life lesson. The tale of ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’ is a story about a boy who tells the town, as a joke, that the wolf is coming and he gets them all worked up and then they find out the wolf was not coming. Over time, the boy continues to replay the joke and everytime the town falls for it and comes running to the rescue. Finally, the last time the boy “cries wolf” no one came to his help and no one thought he was serious so the wolf ended up eating the boy. This tale kelps children realize not to lie and not to make up stories, and never take something serious and make it in a joke.
All we live for is to tell the tale of our lives to our future generation. One day maybe they wont make the same mistakes we did. Maybe one day we will gather up all the advice our ancestors have passed down and live in peace one day.
There once was a bear who lived in the woods.
He was 8 feet tall, fat and brown.
He was king of the forest, and wore a large crown.
He talked and danced, almost ripping his pants.
He wore red and white,
it was a great sight.
He clapped his hands, and pattered his paws,
He is the fairytale King, dancing in the raw.
Behind every person is an unkown tale.
My brother has always been a teller of tale tales. He remininced about fishing trips that never happen, conversations that could never have taken place, and people who had never met. He wrote stories about family members dying for English class, making his pregnant teacher sob, all the while he had never been to a funeral. He told his friends he’d met the president. He asked how come no one believed him. And my mother bore his wild imagination with quiet understanding, telling his teachers if they believed only have of what he said of her, she’d believe only half of what he said of them.
live to tell the tale is a song by the band called passion pit that i love. (you should listen to it sometime)! i love when people tell me tales, i am so interested. and lily doesn’t like this project, so she mocks me. good bye !
Dragon Tales, that show my little brother and sister used to watch all the time. It was about these two kids who were magically transported to Dragon Land, a place filled with dragons. Not mean dragons; nice dragons, cartoon dragons, ones who let you climb on their backs and fly into the sky. That’s all I remember, except there was one dragon who had two heads. I used to think how horrible it would be to have another person share my body. I really think I would go crazy.
I wonder if Dragon Tales is still on TV.
Let me tell you a story, a tale if you will. It’s a great little story with a fabulous plot. I heard it from a friend a few years ago while sitting around a campfire in the middle of the woods. It was freezing that night – the wind was absolutly bone-chilling . . . Huh? Oh, I can’t remember the story I wanted to tell. Oh well.
I’d like to tell you a tale of love. A new love. A fresh love. A love that one would hope would last a lifetime. But the thing with tales is that you never know whether or not to believe them.
Fairy Tales make me dream and drive me to a distant place. I love to imagine my self on adventures, journeys, conquests etc. They give me a place where I can experience being some one completely different.
Good tales have a instrunction in them, but they should be undoubtedly interesting to people, especially to main readers and listeners, children.
a tale of a princess in a castle always has a prince, but can the prince be a charmer or a dog? Can the princess always find true love? what if the stepmother wins? what if the prince charming met angelina Jolie, is it still a fairy tale ever after? A tale of a women falling in love is better than a fairy tale where fantasy may take over realism.
my favorite fairy tale when i was a kid was slnow white and the 7 dwarfs. I also liked sleeping beauty and cinderella
tales are taliesioofghjk
i wanna go to bed
im cold
im kinda sick
i hate school
get me out of here
at least heat this place
pce
The word tale reminds me of all of the stories and movies I watched as a child. It reminds me of a fairytale, like every princess story I knew about when I was young. My mom used to tell my brother and I stories that sounded quite impossible, so we always knew she was telling a silly tale. The word tale reminds me of fairytale stories, such as Cinderella, Beaty and the Beast, etc.
there are many fairy tales written that always have great endings and very unpredictable to the reader at most times. the well known tales that i have read as a child are little red riding hood, goldie lockes, sleeping beauty, cinderella, and snow white.
when i was very young my family went on vacation with another family we were close with. we were in LBI, NJ and my mother told us a story about the “one armed coco” it was a scary story becasue we were so young and didnt know any better and right at the climax of her story our friend coco jumped out the kitchen with his arm in his shirt! he arrrrged like a pirate. The tale of one armed coco will stay with me for the rest of my life.
ii have a tale to tell about a tale on my butt. i want to go home. cure up in my bed and never wake up until its warm. why is like 0 degrees in this whole school? kill me
i hate tales they are stupid. im tired i want to go to sleep like cupid uh wadupp
He told the tail….tale about something or another. I wasn’t really listening because it was in the middle of class. But who knows which was more important?
brilliant.
Stories were long – John didn’t have the time to tell one. There were too many people around who didn’t want to hear him, and instead of telling the tale, he simply sat and fidgeted. Not enough time to begin, not enough time to end it. “Once upon a time…”
it’s a story.
of us.
of them.
of where we’ve been
and where we’re going.
it’s forever after.
and in a land far far away.
it’s once upon a time.
awakens like sleeping beauty.
and ends happily ever after.
Here’s a test,
a test to tell the tale that is real
but fictional,
about a boy or girl,
gender isn’t an issue,
who gets lost in a storm of hale.
While it’s raining cats and dogs
she stumbles along in a fog of confusion,
waiting with bated breath for the mists of her delusion
to clear her from fear.
I remember tales of donkeys who talk and wish on magic pebbles and bears who ride the train to Boston….and I wish i still believed in magic. In a mermaid ability to turn sailors into mush with her lovely voice, in the fox who can get the chickens to willingly hop into his pot. I wish I still believed.
i tell you a tale of two lovers. it was a love so great that nothing come break it, when they were together everything else faded to grey. they were full of passion and excitement. i tell you a tale.
is a story and a way to loose yourself in something other than yourself. Once upon a time I visited a strange land of beauty and danger. Alone and happy I climbed mountains and swam rivers.
There’s a tale of a man I once knew. A collector. He’d never been a silver spoon baby or a golden boy. In fact, the only thing he had to his name were a broken cello he left baking in the sun. He once told me even sidewalks are dangerous. Just one small step away from a busy road. One small step and you’re on the news. Yet still he stumbled up the shabby concrete towards my house, singing Christmas Carols like it wasn’t July. Looking at me through homeless eyes. Searching for a reason to care.
“Oh what a tale I have to tell,” Mr. Timuppins declared as he walked into the pub. “I just met the Queen of Fairy, and she tried to get me to come live with her in the Land of the Silver Sky.” “Well now, sit down, have a pint and tell us all about it,” Maeve placed a tankard of frothy brew in front of him. “Hmph,” Benny whispered to his cohorts as they watched the exchange. “Looks like this gambit to get free beer is working like a charm.”
The tale that cannot be told is the one that will bring you to an early grave. Keeping secrets, or thoughts that may harm another will eat away at a person until they can no longer stand the stirrings of their own mind.
Im going to tell you a tale of a mystical creature named Molly. She lived in the ocean, she had green hair, and she had a fishy sent to her. If you got approached by Molly, you were allowed to have one wish. Molly would grant your wish and you would be very happy. her beautiful wings were lift her into the air and you would watch Molly float away gracefully. Then she would never be seen again.
There was a tale of a bunny in old Norwich, whose tail had been bitten off by a dog. The dog grew ears as long as a rabbit’s, and could hear all the sounds he’d missed before: the fox in the brush, the hawk high overhead. The man with the gun. These sounds terrified him now, and he ran deep into the woods, until he found a hole beneath a tree in which to hide. The bunny found him there, still trembling, and offered him this: a nip on his nose. The bunny’s teeth went deep, and the dog lie there, bleeding and howling, but the bunny had gone, the dog’s nose in his mouth, and now he could see the tracks of all the wild things in the leaves. In seven days’ time, they both arose into the night sky, and now they are bunny and dog, chasing each other across the midnight fields forever.
A tale
A tale
String a yarn- a line, let’s hear it
I want to know
Liar
We all know it’s lies
Entertaining lies…
Lies, nevertheless
Let us lie with you
We speak of tales
We speak of lies
Lying tales
That’s what we do
Why do we do it?
Liar
That’s why
We lie
Lie
Lie
No truth
Just tales
Along the tale of the fish that swam through an ocean deeper than the heavens fallen from the ages of kin, a blessed sailor did pass above with awe at the thunderous change of wit and whim.
Ever since I was a kid, I would often listen to different tales. It amazes how a simple woman would eventually marry the man of her dreams. But then, I realized as I grew older, that not everyone has a fairytale ending.
I loved that movie “The American Tale.” Fievel was so cute!!!
a story like beatrix potter or a tall or small lie or a message from your brain to you that peters through into the conciousness.