Social network threads are becoming the hottest new thing on the internet. Kids sit at home chatting with their friends who live right around the corner versus going out into the middle of the front yard and kicking a ball around! The internet will be the death of us!
nunca supe que significaba la palabra thread. estudié inglés durante doce años y nunca me había encontrado con ella hasta hoy. desempolvé mi diccionario inglés-español español-inglés y fue ahí que encontré la respuesta.
it makes clothing, where would we be without thread??? naked of course!! thread is obviously vital in order to prevent our eyes from seeing unnecessary nastiness!! Well, in some cases anyway:)
Oh this is the word the thread of thought the thread of a needle the thread in a needle a thread of a book a thread of a thought….i can’t think…i have no thread within me to talk or rather think about anything dealing with thread…i wanted a new word but thread it is and thread it will be and thread of though I have mastered.
the thread that unwinds from your sweater will never end, never end, never end. the more you tug the more it goes, on and on. you want it to stop but it wont. you cant help but pull it. you know you shouldnt, but you wont stop. it will go on forever…
Thread is the one binding agent of life. Thread is what holds us all together, both in our clothes nd in our lives. It is the threads of our existence that mke us who we are or what we will become.
thread is small and thin and fragile, its weak but strong. it holds things together and it can easily fall apart. it’s all you need to fix something so broken. I am Thread.
A piece of fabric ie cotton which enables one to bind ie by sewing materials together . Can also relate to a train of thougt ie I’ve list my thread . Connecting one statement to another
I can’t really explain the thrill of finding a spool of thread in my grandmother’s old sewing kit. “This color would go perfectly with that old shirt from the thrift store….I need to patch up that old hole anyway.” And then it turns into something completely and beautifully different.
A thread can pull a thousand strings; like a stone thrown in a pond, it has a ripple effect. By pulling one thread, you can tighten a whole bunch. You can tie a whole bunch up with just one thread.
Thread is a powerful tool. When combined with a needle, it can bring things together. Also, threads are viral strings of data. THreads are really cool and allow everything to be connected. I use thread every day. I am very handy with a needle and thread, and without thread, I couldn’t fix a lot of things. I also use threads online to help me find more information and/or similar topics
The thread of my thoughts come together to form a single decision, a single choice, a single word. The threads make up a song, a speech, a voice. Thread.
A thread is used to sew things together. Be it a tie, dress, or in technical speaking, a heart. Let’s not get too mushy here though. A thread can be a person, a moment in time, anything really. It is what holds a broken or torn heart together through hard times. A thread is friend, or maybe just a string.
Threadless I buy a lot of t-shirts from them it is like following a thread of my desire
trying to unravel the unrest searching for something unknown and finding more threads.
thread is the thing that holds a story together. and your clothes. it’s the thing that you hang by, when you’re almost at the end of your rope. and it’s the thing that your grandmother squints at, when she wants to darn your socks. i miss my grandma. so much.
thread is a thing you sew with. it holds my clothese togther and cant be very usefull for other purposes besides that. like when i run out of strign and need to tie somethign togther or whatever. hread comes in many different colors too, which is a good thing because clothese do too which is what holds them togther.. good thing thread is strong so my clothes dont fall appaer that be weired
thread is my hand and your hand together threading into one another loose threads curling their way under my skirt and into your palms pull at this thread and i come loose. that’s how i’ve been feeling lately like i’m about to come undone, come apart, come loose. come lose yourself in me so i am not alone in this whirlpool this tidalwave churning inside me.
Im sitting at the train station staring at the buttons sewn to my black corduroy backpack. It is so old the corduroy is wearing away in places and the many holes and rips let slip away my precious treasures. Its like my memory, a sieve for information, holding only the biggest most important things, and letting little things just slip away.
There are buttons sewn on the outside and I hear the train’s whistle as it comes to a stop, a thread is dangling on one of the buttons. It would only take a quick tug to pull it all apart again, to be the loose pieces they once were.
To remember what one was before transforming into something else is only easy for buttons.
sewing needles and buttons, like fabric with patterns and swirls, wallpaper fabric, sock monkeys and hand made dolls with watercolor faces. Sock darning, darning eggs.
There is only a thread of hope that things will be okay, but they will be because i’ve always told myself… if it isn’t okay now… it will be. And so far.. it’s worked for me. It’s something that i know to be true. It may take a while but the future is bright and there will always be a happy ending. There are lessons to be learned and smiles to submit.
The first image that comes to mind is a thread on an internet post, but then I think of the type of thread used for sewing, which brings my mind to biochemistry class, in which we discussed supercoiling of DNA using thread as an analogy.
I don’t see the thread of time. I don’t know why we have to be connected. Can we not just live day to day without attempting to solve every problem that comes our way? I simply wish that all connectivity would die away so that we might live peacefully.
oh wow like sowing thats cool. i learned how to sow once but i wasnt very good at getting the thread through the needle and sowing machines confuse me. this is kind of hard to do. kind of like a brain drain like we use to do in mr. shwarzts class. i forgot the apostrophe and i think i’m spelling things wrong but i don;t wanto to go back because then i woudln’t have many words. i cant go back this is so hard oh my god
sewing and weaving and stitching and bobbing up and down and in and out creating it’s simple but so complex and if you mess up you can go back, but only usually if you snip the thread and take it out of the needle, and no seamstress wants to do that. it’s important to keep moving forward. sometimes you can sew over something again to minimize the appearance of a flaw, but usually…you just have to go with it. thread. life. same thing.
thread is used in almost everything and in every way. you can have a thread of thoughts or emotions or you can thread something together. you can also have a thread on a violin or harp or guitar etc. thread is such a versatile word. it is beautiful and can even be rearranged beautifully.
the thread gently, nimbly; careened down from the cieling and landed ever so softly on his pale chest as she dipped her fingers into his lightness and drank a heavenly water from the pools of his soul. the morning was ceeping up on them and they were never as happy as right now.
So I’m reading the comment thread and there’s only negative things on it. People have no idea how much these comments could affect the person they’re writing about. They hurt. A lot. And it dissapoints me.
I was strung taut. My body rigid as I forced the smile unto my face. “Of course i’m happy for you!” I lied. He would never know that that was the last straw. Him and her… it was something I couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t handle. I was supposed to be his. We were supposed to be together. I was holding on by a single thread. That thread just snapped as I saw the smile on his face thanks to her.
Is something that actually makes the world go round. In general many of the things that keep us warm and clothe us require thread unless your using a leaf. even then you must require some form of make shift thread to hold it onto your body. it is something we all chrish even though we wont admit it.
push the trigger and pull the thread. We can hold hands and jump together into the depths of the watery unknown black. you’re so beautiful. I want everyone to remember you beautiful
The thread. It was just one thread, holding together my friendship bracelet. The one last thing connecting me to my home, my brothers and sisters, my life that was truly my life.
Pulling at the thin thread hanging from her blouse. Jennifer pondered if the taxi would ever arrive. Just as she was losing all hope she spied a set of head lights coming down the road. “This better be it.” she mouthed to her self.
What pulled up was not a taxi at all but a classic all white alpha romero. The young man driving was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans.
“need a lift?” he asked while leaning down on the passenger seat. She could see his face and hair clearly now. And she realized that this guy look exactly like James Dean.
“You like to go fast?” He asked her casually.
Threads coming off a cheap shirt from Marshalls or that new purple dress I got at Nordstrom the other day. Connections…the things that keep my cousins and I so close even with so much distance. Grandmother in The Princess and the Goblins with her invisible magic thread. Sewing, something I can’t do. Something Grandma could do, the woman I wish so desperately I could have known. I look like her they tell me. My facial expressions are her reincarnated.
Slowly, she pulled the thread through the fabric of the doll. The front of it’s chest had been ripped open, some of the stuffing was falling out. But she didn’t panic. She gently pushed the stuffing back in and sat down, resting the doll on her lap, and slowly worked at patching it up again. She didn’t know the source of the slash, it had happened right before her eyes; but it was ok. As she pulled the open wound closed on the dolls chest, she knew she was doing the same for the man she loved, who was out there somewhere.
She told him that she’ll watch out for him, even when he was many miles away.
He didn’t fully understand…
Social network threads are becoming the hottest new thing on the internet. Kids sit at home chatting with their friends who live right around the corner versus going out into the middle of the front yard and kicking a ball around! The internet will be the death of us!
nunca supe que significaba la palabra thread. estudié inglés durante doce años y nunca me había encontrado con ella hasta hoy. desempolvé mi diccionario inglés-español español-inglés y fue ahí que encontré la respuesta.
it makes clothing, where would we be without thread??? naked of course!! thread is obviously vital in order to prevent our eyes from seeing unnecessary nastiness!! Well, in some cases anyway:)
Oh this is the word the thread of thought the thread of a needle the thread in a needle a thread of a book a thread of a thought….i can’t think…i have no thread within me to talk or rather think about anything dealing with thread…i wanted a new word but thread it is and thread it will be and thread of though I have mastered.
the thread that unwinds from your sweater will never end, never end, never end. the more you tug the more it goes, on and on. you want it to stop but it wont. you cant help but pull it. you know you shouldnt, but you wont stop. it will go on forever…
Thread is the one binding agent of life. Thread is what holds us all together, both in our clothes nd in our lives. It is the threads of our existence that mke us who we are or what we will become.
thread is small and thin and fragile, its weak but strong. it holds things together and it can easily fall apart. it’s all you need to fix something so broken. I am Thread.
A piece of fabric ie cotton which enables one to bind ie by sewing materials together . Can also relate to a train of thougt ie I’ve list my thread . Connecting one statement to another
I can’t really explain the thrill of finding a spool of thread in my grandmother’s old sewing kit. “This color would go perfectly with that old shirt from the thrift store….I need to patch up that old hole anyway.” And then it turns into something completely and beautifully different.
A thread can pull a thousand strings; like a stone thrown in a pond, it has a ripple effect. By pulling one thread, you can tighten a whole bunch. You can tie a whole bunch up with just one thread.
Thread is a powerful tool. When combined with a needle, it can bring things together. Also, threads are viral strings of data. THreads are really cool and allow everything to be connected. I use thread every day. I am very handy with a needle and thread, and without thread, I couldn’t fix a lot of things. I also use threads online to help me find more information and/or similar topics
thread the pieces of my heart together. make it tight. don’t let it unravel, for it is fragile.
There was a thread that was growing inside my body. This thread could come out of my mouth when I get mad.
The thread of my thoughts come together to form a single decision, a single choice, a single word. The threads make up a song, a speech, a voice. Thread.
A thread is used to sew things together. Be it a tie, dress, or in technical speaking, a heart. Let’s not get too mushy here though. A thread can be a person, a moment in time, anything really. It is what holds a broken or torn heart together through hard times. A thread is friend, or maybe just a string.
Threadless I buy a lot of t-shirts from them it is like following a thread of my desire
trying to unravel the unrest searching for something unknown and finding more threads.
thread you pull my string and unravel me untill im bare, just and empty spool. and its all im hangin on by.
thread is the thing that holds a story together. and your clothes. it’s the thing that you hang by, when you’re almost at the end of your rope. and it’s the thing that your grandmother squints at, when she wants to darn your socks. i miss my grandma. so much.
clothes, fashion, life,annoyance in my shirt as it touchs my boobs, and can’t figure out what it is for hours.
thread is a thing you sew with. it holds my clothese togther and cant be very usefull for other purposes besides that. like when i run out of strign and need to tie somethign togther or whatever. hread comes in many different colors too, which is a good thing because clothese do too which is what holds them togther.. good thing thread is strong so my clothes dont fall appaer that be weired
thread is my hand and your hand together threading into one another loose threads curling their way under my skirt and into your palms pull at this thread and i come loose. that’s how i’ve been feeling lately like i’m about to come undone, come apart, come loose. come lose yourself in me so i am not alone in this whirlpool this tidalwave churning inside me.
Im sitting at the train station staring at the buttons sewn to my black corduroy backpack. It is so old the corduroy is wearing away in places and the many holes and rips let slip away my precious treasures. Its like my memory, a sieve for information, holding only the biggest most important things, and letting little things just slip away.
There are buttons sewn on the outside and I hear the train’s whistle as it comes to a stop, a thread is dangling on one of the buttons. It would only take a quick tug to pull it all apart again, to be the loose pieces they once were.
To remember what one was before transforming into something else is only easy for buttons.
sewing needles and buttons, like fabric with patterns and swirls, wallpaper fabric, sock monkeys and hand made dolls with watercolor faces. Sock darning, darning eggs.
There is only a thread of hope that things will be okay, but they will be because i’ve always told myself… if it isn’t okay now… it will be. And so far.. it’s worked for me. It’s something that i know to be true. It may take a while but the future is bright and there will always be a happy ending. There are lessons to be learned and smiles to submit.
A thread. A needle. Makes my shirt a shirt.
Why should I thread a needle with thread to make a shirt that is ready made?
The first image that comes to mind is a thread on an internet post, but then I think of the type of thread used for sewing, which brings my mind to biochemistry class, in which we discussed supercoiling of DNA using thread as an analogy.
I don’t see the thread of time. I don’t know why we have to be connected. Can we not just live day to day without attempting to solve every problem that comes our way? I simply wish that all connectivity would die away so that we might live peacefully.
oh wow like sowing thats cool. i learned how to sow once but i wasnt very good at getting the thread through the needle and sowing machines confuse me. this is kind of hard to do. kind of like a brain drain like we use to do in mr. shwarzts class. i forgot the apostrophe and i think i’m spelling things wrong but i don;t wanto to go back because then i woudln’t have many words. i cant go back this is so hard oh my god
sewing and weaving and stitching and bobbing up and down and in and out creating it’s simple but so complex and if you mess up you can go back, but only usually if you snip the thread and take it out of the needle, and no seamstress wants to do that. it’s important to keep moving forward. sometimes you can sew over something again to minimize the appearance of a flaw, but usually…you just have to go with it. thread. life. same thing.
thread is used in almost everything and in every way. you can have a thread of thoughts or emotions or you can thread something together. you can also have a thread on a violin or harp or guitar etc. thread is such a versatile word. it is beautiful and can even be rearranged beautifully.
the thread gently, nimbly; careened down from the cieling and landed ever so softly on his pale chest as she dipped her fingers into his lightness and drank a heavenly water from the pools of his soul. the morning was ceeping up on them and they were never as happy as right now.
So I’m reading the comment thread and there’s only negative things on it. People have no idea how much these comments could affect the person they’re writing about. They hurt. A lot. And it dissapoints me.
I was strung taut. My body rigid as I forced the smile unto my face. “Of course i’m happy for you!” I lied. He would never know that that was the last straw. Him and her… it was something I couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t handle. I was supposed to be his. We were supposed to be together. I was holding on by a single thread. That thread just snapped as I saw the smile on his face thanks to her.
A thread. A needle. Makes my shirt a shirt.
Is something that actually makes the world go round. In general many of the things that keep us warm and clothe us require thread unless your using a leaf. even then you must require some form of make shift thread to hold it onto your body. it is something we all chrish even though we wont admit it.
push the trigger and pull the thread. We can hold hands and jump together into the depths of the watery unknown black. you’re so beautiful. I want everyone to remember you beautiful
The thread. It was just one thread, holding together my friendship bracelet. The one last thing connecting me to my home, my brothers and sisters, my life that was truly my life.
One thread. Just one thread.
Pulling at the thin thread hanging from her blouse. Jennifer pondered if the taxi would ever arrive. Just as she was losing all hope she spied a set of head lights coming down the road. “This better be it.” she mouthed to her self.
What pulled up was not a taxi at all but a classic all white alpha romero. The young man driving was wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans.
“need a lift?” he asked while leaning down on the passenger seat. She could see his face and hair clearly now. And she realized that this guy look exactly like James Dean.
“You like to go fast?” He asked her casually.
Threads coming off a cheap shirt from Marshalls or that new purple dress I got at Nordstrom the other day. Connections…the things that keep my cousins and I so close even with so much distance. Grandmother in The Princess and the Goblins with her invisible magic thread. Sewing, something I can’t do. Something Grandma could do, the woman I wish so desperately I could have known. I look like her they tell me. My facial expressions are her reincarnated.
Slowly, she pulled the thread through the fabric of the doll. The front of it’s chest had been ripped open, some of the stuffing was falling out. But she didn’t panic. She gently pushed the stuffing back in and sat down, resting the doll on her lap, and slowly worked at patching it up again. She didn’t know the source of the slash, it had happened right before her eyes; but it was ok. As she pulled the open wound closed on the dolls chest, she knew she was doing the same for the man she loved, who was out there somewhere.
She told him that she’ll watch out for him, even when he was many miles away.
He didn’t fully understand…