a tale is a story that enlightens our knowledge. It can give us deeper insights in the underlying foundations of our world and our society. The story it tells is a teacher of kind.
my tale… i once had a tail and everyone asked me why it was there. When i wrote on my driving license form i spelled it incorrectly as i am dislexsic. In the unusual notes section i wrote “tale” instead of “tail”.
everyone has a story, but what makes a life story a tale, or an epic tale? How it’s told. The owrlds and languages used make the story, not the adventure or who does what, but the language. It’s no small matter to turn a walk
I told a tall tale about a man with one leg. His leg was the most slender and athletic of any leg I ever saw. Men were known to weep in it’s presence. But one day while walking, with crutches of course, this man encountered a dog with three legs. Once they saw face to face the dog stood up on his two back legs and tore off his front leg and gave it to the man with one beautiful leg- so now he could have two legs, even if it is a front right, angled dog-leg.
I’ve soent the last 18 years of my life thinking that the only way anything would be worth it would be if I lived a life interesting enough that I could eventualy write a story about it. I spent years messing up so that I culd be interesting. Now, I’m finally ready to put it into words and it turns out that nothing I did was ever that big of a deal in the first place.
is story transferred through time from person to person taking on attributes that alter the true stories preface and consequential endings will always be different to each person relating the “tale” from one person to another.
tale of very classical dog is not meant for children. it begins from a forst not so far from here but not close either. the dog was brown and it had ted collar.
To tell a tale can be to weave a spiraling fiction, or to tell a dry account of such an every day experience as brushing one’s teeth. A tale is in fact an extremely broad concept, allowing for a lot of leeway and choice.
a tale of two heads of lice and a cabbage patch doll. the chickens laid eggs only to find the cabbage patch with a hole in the middle and a colony of head lice laid to rest.
There’s only one way to write out that which is unseen.
I’ve fallen off the edge of non-fiction into something vast and deep. I’m lost… But at the same time, I don’t want to be found.
A tale is only untrue, if your imagination defeats it.
a tale is a story which is usually fictional, but at times these could be true stories as well. Tales could be tall, could be small, could have a moral, or could be trivial. In any case, the connotations of a tale are similar to a fib…
tales are found in bible. They are not necessarily true. I wish to someday tell my own tale to my great grandchildren. I greatly enjoy listening tales along other peoples roads.
Is a childrens book, if you spell it differently, it could be tail, as in an animals body part, use d for balance or there for show, dogs and cats have tail’s
well i WAS GOING ON THIS HUGE TALE AND ONE MAN CAME UP TO ME AND HE SEAID OY i DONT LIKE THE LOOK OF YOUR HUGE FACE SO I SAID NO NEITHER DO I BUT THAT WAS OK BECAUSE NOONE IN THE WORLD THOUGHT THAT EITHER THERE WERE PLENTY OF MEN AND DUCKS OUT WITHIN THE OCEAN THAT DAY AND THE SUN WAS SHINING HOWEVER THERE WAS NO LIGHTING WHEN I CAME HOME HE SAID NO NON I DONT WANT TO COME WITH YOU ANYWHERE
well i WAS GOING ON THIS HUGE TALE AND ONE MAN CAME UP TO ME AND HE SEAID OY i DONT LIKE THE LOOK OF YOUR HUGE FACE SO I SAID NO NEITHER DO I BUT THAT WAS OK BECAUSE NOONE IN THE WORLD THOUGHT THAT EITHER THERE WERE PLENTY OF MEN AND DUCKS OUT WITHIN THE OCEAN THAT DAY AND THE SUN WAS SHINING HOWEVER THERE WAS NO LIGHTING WHEN I CAME HOME HE SAID NO NON I DONT WANT TO COME WITH YOU ANYWHERE
Tales to tell, now is time. The bard sits in the green land, poetically wroting and singing tales and lores of days gone by. A sn shines and history repeats as the small children listen in awe. Before the bards and the druids they tell of a time of
Tall tales of yore are not things you’re concerned about, really. I spent 12 minutes pondering great questions, making notations and narrations–to what end? How can these things be told, relayed and replayed, my mind is no frame of reference: it’s a great heap of junk. never to be read, nor to be revered.
I just wrote about tale. So I’ll instead write about tail. Many animals have tails. The most fascinating tails are owned by monkeys. Monkeys in the new world have tails with grooves on them like fingerprints to grasp branches and the like.
I can tell tales of the edge of the world. Tales that will make your eyes widen and your hair stand on end. Of a place where men are as alien as they would be here. It’s not a friendly land, but if you know where to look you’ll find riches and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Go.
I remember in grade school having to use the computer to write some kind of narrative, a tale. I mixed up all these different landscapes and characters and then I was supposed to write a story about this?! yeah right! that’s what began my passion for creative writing.
Tales…I took a fairy tales class last quarter. It was so interesting…I heard the french translations. The french believe in exposing the truths of the world to their children to protect them. Incest, killing, dangerous people, etc are all present in these versions.
of two cities and the cat sat on it. Dogs have them too. and charles dickens felt like he wanted to shit out of his tale. Why do we always have to tell tales when we are kids or is it just that we hate ourselves and everything that goes with cakes and not being in controil of our destiny and all that shit. It[‘s crap being a kid so no wonder we all tell tales or turn tale or sit on our heads and tails until the end of playtime, when it starts to rain and we all have to go in for tea or supper as posh people like to call it motherfuckers. I hate people who call dinner supper;l they are wankers. is my 60 seconds up yet this is killing me.
It was a simple tale, really, and no one ever got it right. It was a story of life and death and struggle and success and failure. I never knew the real ending, but I knew the beginning and I felt it started with me.
I’ve been spending all my time tracing footsteps I can’t find.
Those were the last words that she wrote, and I think that theres some sort of meaning there that she wasn’t even trying to express.
She died with a pen in her hand, a small pool of blood leaking from her lips. She wanted so much to finish this, but it looks as though she never will. Her only tale, a story for the dead to hear now.
I saw him in the distance, and I wasn’t sure how to react to his sudden movements. I felt the ship slide forwards and backwards and the beast was as wide as the ship was tall. Frightened, my knees tensed and my breathes becamse shorter.
This must be a dream I thought, for what else could it be?
we all begin with just one word. what is that word? Is it love? Is it just passion? All coversations begin with one word, just like all journeies begin with one step. Everything begins with ONE! What is One?
as there is there was
just one where there should be more
but no more then this
could be fit in one
there could be lines
but only spoken
not written
as the tale goes
te memory is forgotten
The tale starts here. Nobody knew how it would go, nobody knew how it would end. But this is where it started, whzere the events began to unfold like a flower in the morning sun.
Generations would remember it and tell it over and over. It would become a legend. It starts here.
a tale is a story that enlightens our knowledge. It can give us deeper insights in the underlying foundations of our world and our society. The story it tells is a teacher of kind.
this is a tale about me, I sailed on the sea.
an long time ago I left my home, now I live alone
Tale of the tape. Boxing, Mohammed Ali, Joe Frazier, Thrilla in Manilla, Howard Cosell and the age of the big fights. Who was the best
my tale… i once had a tail and everyone asked me why it was there. When i wrote on my driving license form i spelled it incorrectly as i am dislexsic. In the unusual notes section i wrote “tale” instead of “tail”.
everyone has a story, but what makes a life story a tale, or an epic tale? How it’s told. The owrlds and languages used make the story, not the adventure or who does what, but the language. It’s no small matter to turn a walk
I told a tall tale about a man with one leg. His leg was the most slender and athletic of any leg I ever saw. Men were known to weep in it’s presence. But one day while walking, with crutches of course, this man encountered a dog with three legs. Once they saw face to face the dog stood up on his two back legs and tore off his front leg and gave it to the man with one beautiful leg- so now he could have two legs, even if it is a front right, angled dog-leg.
I’ve soent the last 18 years of my life thinking that the only way anything would be worth it would be if I lived a life interesting enough that I could eventualy write a story about it. I spent years messing up so that I culd be interesting. Now, I’m finally ready to put it into words and it turns out that nothing I did was ever that big of a deal in the first place.
is story transferred through time from person to person taking on attributes that alter the true stories preface and consequential endings will always be different to each person relating the “tale” from one person to another.
tale of very classical dog is not meant for children. it begins from a forst not so far from here but not close either. the dog was brown and it had ted collar.
To tell a tale can be to weave a spiraling fiction, or to tell a dry account of such an every day experience as brushing one’s teeth. A tale is in fact an extremely broad concept, allowing for a lot of leeway and choice.
a tale of two heads of lice and a cabbage patch doll. the chickens laid eggs only to find the cabbage patch with a hole in the middle and a colony of head lice laid to rest.
There’s only one way to write out that which is unseen.
I’ve fallen off the edge of non-fiction into something vast and deep. I’m lost… But at the same time, I don’t want to be found.
A tale is only untrue, if your imagination defeats it.
a tale is a story which is usually fictional, but at times these could be true stories as well. Tales could be tall, could be small, could have a moral, or could be trivial. In any case, the connotations of a tale are similar to a fib…
There once was a lad named Niall
And he always got the subject of Tale.
With a bang of his gun, the website was gone
And Niall got writers block.
Hooray!
Nothing is too small to know and nothing too big to attempt?
This is an exercise in belief
Trust me, I’m telling you stories.
A tale about…
Once upon a time there was a man who told a tale about another man who was Jesus. Hooray!
tales are found in bible. They are not necessarily true. I wish to someday tell my own tale to my great grandchildren. I greatly enjoy listening tales along other peoples roads.
Is a childrens book, if you spell it differently, it could be tail, as in an animals body part, use d for balance or there for show, dogs and cats have tail’s
well i WAS GOING ON THIS HUGE TALE AND ONE MAN CAME UP TO ME AND HE SEAID OY i DONT LIKE THE LOOK OF YOUR HUGE FACE SO I SAID NO NEITHER DO I BUT THAT WAS OK BECAUSE NOONE IN THE WORLD THOUGHT THAT EITHER THERE WERE PLENTY OF MEN AND DUCKS OUT WITHIN THE OCEAN THAT DAY AND THE SUN WAS SHINING HOWEVER THERE WAS NO LIGHTING WHEN I CAME HOME HE SAID NO NON I DONT WANT TO COME WITH YOU ANYWHERE
well i WAS GOING ON THIS HUGE TALE AND ONE MAN CAME UP TO ME AND HE SEAID OY i DONT LIKE THE LOOK OF YOUR HUGE FACE SO I SAID NO NEITHER DO I BUT THAT WAS OK BECAUSE NOONE IN THE WORLD THOUGHT THAT EITHER THERE WERE PLENTY OF MEN AND DUCKS OUT WITHIN THE OCEAN THAT DAY AND THE SUN WAS SHINING HOWEVER THERE WAS NO LIGHTING WHEN I CAME HOME HE SAID NO NON I DONT WANT TO COME WITH YOU ANYWHERE
something that is about faries and elves
Tales to tell, now is time. The bard sits in the green land, poetically wroting and singing tales and lores of days gone by. A sn shines and history repeats as the small children listen in awe. Before the bards and the druids they tell of a time of
Tall tales of yore are not things you’re concerned about, really. I spent 12 minutes pondering great questions, making notations and narrations–to what end? How can these things be told, relayed and replayed, my mind is no frame of reference: it’s a great heap of junk. never to be read, nor to be revered.
He told the tale, to wide eyed kids, without a thought to the sleepless nights that lay ahead.
“He stalked the town,” he said slowly, “looking for sleeping ones to take for his own.”
The children were silent. Staring intently at the old man. Listening, like so many before, to his lurid telling of times long past.
“The lust for blood ran deep,” he continued. “Alshazar was hungry. Nothing would stand in his way.”
Tales as old as time, song that begins in rhyme. Beauty and the Beast…
long, strong, flexible, imagination, monkeys, stories,
I just wrote about tale. So I’ll instead write about tail. Many animals have tails. The most fascinating tails are owned by monkeys. Monkeys in the new world have tails with grooves on them like fingerprints to grasp branches and the like.
a short story, probably made up, something to entertain the kids, or made up about somebody.
I can tell tales of the edge of the world. Tales that will make your eyes widen and your hair stand on end. Of a place where men are as alien as they would be here. It’s not a friendly land, but if you know where to look you’ll find riches and wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Go.
I remember in grade school having to use the computer to write some kind of narrative, a tale. I mixed up all these different landscapes and characters and then I was supposed to write a story about this?! yeah right! that’s what began my passion for creative writing.
Long. Tall. Fairy. Old wifes. Once upon a time. The end!
Tales…I took a fairy tales class last quarter. It was so interesting…I heard the french translations. The french believe in exposing the truths of the world to their children to protect them. Incest, killing, dangerous people, etc are all present in these versions.
of two cities and the cat sat on it. Dogs have them too. and charles dickens felt like he wanted to shit out of his tale. Why do we always have to tell tales when we are kids or is it just that we hate ourselves and everything that goes with cakes and not being in controil of our destiny and all that shit. It[‘s crap being a kid so no wonder we all tell tales or turn tale or sit on our heads and tails until the end of playtime, when it starts to rain and we all have to go in for tea or supper as posh people like to call it motherfuckers. I hate people who call dinner supper;l they are wankers. is my 60 seconds up yet this is killing me.
a tale is a story, not an appendage.
It was a simple tale, really, and no one ever got it right. It was a story of life and death and struggle and success and failure. I never knew the real ending, but I knew the beginning and I felt it started with me.
I’ve been spending all my time tracing footsteps I can’t find.
Those were the last words that she wrote, and I think that theres some sort of meaning there that she wasn’t even trying to express.
She died with a pen in her hand, a small pool of blood leaking from her lips. She wanted so much to finish this, but it looks as though she never will. Her only tale, a story for the dead to hear now.
I saw him in the distance, and I wasn’t sure how to react to his sudden movements. I felt the ship slide forwards and backwards and the beast was as wide as the ship was tall. Frightened, my knees tensed and my breathes becamse shorter.
This must be a dream I thought, for what else could it be?
we all begin with just one word. what is that word? Is it love? Is it just passion? All coversations begin with one word, just like all journeies begin with one step. Everything begins with ONE! What is One?
as there is there was
just one where there should be more
but no more then this
could be fit in one
there could be lines
but only spoken
not written
as the tale goes
te memory is forgotten
The tale starts here. Nobody knew how it would go, nobody knew how it would end. But this is where it started, whzere the events began to unfold like a flower in the morning sun.
Generations would remember it and tell it over and over. It would become a legend. It starts here.