Hadley doesn’t believe in the idea of people going to heaven, or the idea of ending somewhere new. He just believes in fighting for what you believe in, and nothing else.
That’s why he’s here: here, atop a barricade, staring out across the crowd of people. Some are on his side, some want him dead, and some are just here out of curiosity.
At his side, Samuel stands, his head held high.
“To freedom,” Hadley calls, and the shots are fired before he has another word.
She looked up in pride
her once tiny runt of a son that got picked on at the playground now run a country
Honor was given to his actions, not his past and that is the best way to gain it
she looked up in disgust,
“I never imagined you would turn out like this”
a look of terror enveloped his face
“I’m sorry you think that mother, but its too late”
the glint of the knife in his hand shone bright
He kneels at the side of her bed, knowing that she is on the verge of death. Knowing that the moments in which Her Majesty could use to speak, are few.
And the words she would say would not be those of the love that they shared.
But the regret that they could never sing its praise.
She grabbed the award and threw it across the room. “HONOR?!” she screamed, looking at the people staring at her from the audience. “You honestly think he should be honored for this?!” She whirled to face him.
He went home drunk. Heartbroken and burdened with regrets of his past decisions he made a few weeks ago before they parted ways. He missed her so bad. Missed talking to her, missed asking her how her day went, missed telling her jokes no matter how silly it is as long as it makes her laugh, missed her wholly–as cliché as it sounds–that no words could describe. He almost drunk-texted her just to tell her how he terribly misses her so bad, but pulled back on the last minute before he pressed send. Because where’s the honor in that? He’d rather tell it personally than it be relayed by words from a text which bear no emotions at all.
Honor among theives. Family and brotherhood are associated with this alot. I’ve never really understood it. Is there honor in upholding your beliefs? Is their honor in disregarding them for the greater good? I don’t know, I don’t have the answers.
He hated the word; as if it were some kind of overbearing, frilly thing hanging over his head with every passing moment. It was something nobles tittered on about, and he wanted nothing of it.
She, on the other hand, cherished it, desired it almost above all else. Honor was being a priority, not a convenience. To be honored was all she wanted in life.
The honor is almost as powerful as the authorities, and I couldn’t help but yearn for it like the others. I wanted to touch it, to feel it, to grasp it in my hands so that I could keep it with me forever. I wanted the high luxury life, the feeling of being able to live comfortably. I want that honor, I want that recognition.
I stand in front of the crown on top of the stool, and tilted my head sideways in confusion.
How could this small little piece of gold thing contain so much honor in it that everyone is willing to get it? How can a tiny thing like this symbolize what is called power and authority? How can a small piece of gold be important to so many people at the same time?
upon her sleeve, badges, wounds, indicating the war. honor on her. skirmishes becoming battles become war becoming death becoming silence becoming peace. and then, when there is no one left to bestow the awards, what of this recognition?
“You want me to provoke them?!” Doyle spluttered. “They’re bound to come after me then, but it won’t be to mend any fences! I’ve kept up my end of this bargain, and now I’m being sold up the river.” “Don’t talk to me like you’re a victim here!” Lucy screamed back at him. “You think what you’ve been doing is honorable in some way? That you deserve respect and fair treatment because of it? I could bring you up on election fraud and a dozen other related charges, without even having to bother using the the murder in Bethesda! Some crazy, disturbed power freak has been trying to influence the election of our national government, and you have been doing his legwork.” She punched a finger into his chest, barely missing the microphone beneath the yacht club logo braided into his chest pocket. “You need to play by my rules, in order for me to protect you. Once this breaks open, there’s going to be a witch hunt in Washington that will make the McCarthy era look like a sunny day in the Eagle Scouts!” Her icy stare would have seemed laughable in any other circumstances, but Doyle felt he was looking into the eyes of a psychopath.
“You’ll probably think this unfair, but you should worry a lot less about your honor, and a lot more about your survival.”
“Quite,”, Doyle replied, “I think I see where you’re coming from now.”
I find honor to be a concept I don’t access very easily, or very well – it seems like valor, a term used only for those that are worthy – perhaps military, exceptional police. I don’t find honor to be something that you verb on a regular basis, at least not in my life. It’s too powerful, too extraordinary.
this is what you bring me to work with? well honey, I’ve seen worse. we’re gonna turn this sow*s ear into a silk purse. we’ll have you washed and dried, primped and polished till you glow with pride, trust my recipe for instant bride, you’ll bring honour to us all.
I am an honor to the Universe in how hard I have worked to be a part of the Universal light and source that we should all strive to be. Being a part of the light and source is a blissful and incredible experience that I feel I have not even totally experienced yet. But it is an awesome feeling.
The highest level in the life of any man or woman.
Something I wish I could bear for my family and friends.
A pedestal, a medal, or the acknowledgement of those whom you’ve dreamed of in names and faces only.
He cursed under his breath as his hand trembled before him. He’d pictured this moment a thousand times, but in his fantasies he was so much smoother. She was ten times more beautiful in person, and to be finally be this close to caress her face felt strangely undeserved.
a place to be…military flags what we fight for what we work for to be cherished to be guarded carefully Memorial Day Veterans Day funerals eulogies flowers parades cheers tears laughter meals remembering
I honor the memory of you
how you used to touch me
how you used to hold me
how you used to be mine
and how i used to be yours
isn’t it sad that now is all gone
isn’t it sad that now you are gone
isn’t it sad that all we had was time
and it’s all gone
Honor, pft. No one has it anymore. If it isn’t sending selfies or making them billions they don’t want it anymore. Society has boiled down to is materialistic wants. Nothing runs the old course anymore. Honor and respect are just words in the dictionary right now.
Her face shone. She looked just as I’d fantasised she would as she walked down the aisle.
However, I knew what’d seen at the window: defiling heself the very eve before our union.
Thank God for Don John’s honour or I would have been boundin marriage to this whore.
She looked as calm as alake on a breezeless summer’s day. Until I spoke.
If not for my brother’s honour!
My lasting comfort is staring down at her shameless face.
Don John – he has redeemed himself.
Honour is spelt with a ‘u’. American’s got lazy and dropped the ‘u’s from many words. My boss and I bicker about the use of ‘u’ and ‘z’ in emails. Luckily for me I am always right as this company technically uses British English – therefore honour is spelt with a ‘u’.
It’s not a salute
or the medals they wear
the time we spend in danger
with no sense of harm or fear
kept without the limits of restraint
disregard the nature of simple survival
I have none, but I have loyalty. Honor is just a word, but deep down, who really has it?? Can anyone really be honorable? Probably not, probably, who knows.
Here is the point – I really can’t abide by American spellings. where has the U gone? Is there any honour in leaving out something that has been there for hundreds of years. I’d be getting rid of American Spelling if my mob ever got in.
Honor is an interesting concept. It’s used in the military a lot. I also hear it used in religions I don’t believe in in a negative light. You brought dishonor to our family. I feel like its blind most of the time.
There is so much talk about this word; who has it, who doesn’t. How much of it there is or isn’t. There doesn’t seem to be much left. But I can tell you who had it. My mother, my grandmother, my grandfather, and so much of their generation. What the hell happened to it? It disappeared in a wave of bullshit.
mulan
reminds me of mulan really and well PMA ( honor, integrity and brotherhood?) no i forgot
i dont like this word, its sounds so technical and formal. how do i get creative around it
well for starters honor my body ?
ICY
Serena tried to turn the motor over while Jimmy chipped away at the icy film that has settled on the windscreen. The old Holden was a reluctant starter but it finally coughed and sputtered to life on the fifth or sixth attempt. Jimmy jumped in and rubbed his hands together trying to generate a little warmth. The heater wouldn’t kick in until they well on their way up the highway. It was ridiculously cold for September, there ground was still patchy with snow. ‘He’s not going to be happy, us just showing up out of the blue, you know.’
Serena was beyond caring what her father thought. She had tried for years to build a bridge between them, to repair the damage that had been done after her mother died, but she couldn’t fight the shrew that had moved in and taken over her Dad’s life. She flicked the indicator and headed south towards Melbourne. ‘It’s her I’m going to see. I’m going to settle this once for all.’
In honor of her father, Jennifer Seymour Fleming hung his self-portrait just above the mantle in the living room, where the fireplace was still warm and glowing amber, and the smell of maple and brown sugar still hung in the air from the night before. Whiskey and cookies had been served to the guests then, and glasses had been raised and clinked in the memory of the man who had brought them all together in the first place.
The brother once honoured and revered above the rest of us sat incarcerated in Lodden Prison. Guilty of fraud as declared by the judge, but guilty of so many more crimes against us all. Sunday lunch once a scene of merriment and hope became a dour occasion, we would all sit together quiet and brooding, tarnished by the same brush of familial shame.
It was what he held most highly. like an invisible crown decorating the top of his head. He sat there pompously, quietly sipping away at his tea. His demeanour was calm and collected, almost sarcastic.
Honor to me is somewhat similar to loyalty. I want to have honor although I think of it in a medieval way of thinking, maybe it does not exist in the same way as it once did. It is not a word that is thrown around a lot, I cannot think of a human being that embodies honor.
Dishonor on your family! You’ll bring dishonor on your cow!
-Mushu, The Great Dragon
Hadley doesn’t believe in the idea of people going to heaven, or the idea of ending somewhere new. He just believes in fighting for what you believe in, and nothing else.
That’s why he’s here: here, atop a barricade, staring out across the crowd of people. Some are on his side, some want him dead, and some are just here out of curiosity.
At his side, Samuel stands, his head held high.
“To freedom,” Hadley calls, and the shots are fired before he has another word.
She looked up in pride
her once tiny runt of a son that got picked on at the playground now run a country
Honor was given to his actions, not his past and that is the best way to gain it
I saw horror not honor
she looked up in disgust,
“I never imagined you would turn out like this”
a look of terror enveloped his face
“I’m sorry you think that mother, but its too late”
the glint of the knife in his hand shone bright
He kneels at the side of her bed, knowing that she is on the verge of death. Knowing that the moments in which Her Majesty could use to speak, are few.
And the words she would say would not be those of the love that they shared.
But the regret that they could never sing its praise.
Today is the day we honor the man who lays before us. For if it was not for him than the battle with the Army of Dover would have been lost.
She grabbed the award and threw it across the room. “HONOR?!” she screamed, looking at the people staring at her from the audience. “You honestly think he should be honored for this?!” She whirled to face him.
He went home drunk. Heartbroken and burdened with regrets of his past decisions he made a few weeks ago before they parted ways. He missed her so bad. Missed talking to her, missed asking her how her day went, missed telling her jokes no matter how silly it is as long as it makes her laugh, missed her wholly–as cliché as it sounds–that no words could describe. He almost drunk-texted her just to tell her how he terribly misses her so bad, but pulled back on the last minute before he pressed send. Because where’s the honor in that? He’d rather tell it personally than it be relayed by words from a text which bear no emotions at all.
Honor among theives. Family and brotherhood are associated with this alot. I’ve never really understood it. Is there honor in upholding your beliefs? Is their honor in disregarding them for the greater good? I don’t know, I don’t have the answers.
He hated the word; as if it were some kind of overbearing, frilly thing hanging over his head with every passing moment. It was something nobles tittered on about, and he wanted nothing of it.
She, on the other hand, cherished it, desired it almost above all else. Honor was being a priority, not a convenience. To be honored was all she wanted in life.
The honor is almost as powerful as the authorities, and I couldn’t help but yearn for it like the others. I wanted to touch it, to feel it, to grasp it in my hands so that I could keep it with me forever. I wanted the high luxury life, the feeling of being able to live comfortably. I want that honor, I want that recognition.
I stand in front of the crown on top of the stool, and tilted my head sideways in confusion.
How could this small little piece of gold thing contain so much honor in it that everyone is willing to get it? How can a tiny thing like this symbolize what is called power and authority? How can a small piece of gold be important to so many people at the same time?
A fluid word rolled…
…Off the page…
And tried to translate itself.
An ordeal to be sure, I suppose the intention had been honorable.
upon her sleeve, badges, wounds, indicating the war. honor on her. skirmishes becoming battles become war becoming death becoming silence becoming peace. and then, when there is no one left to bestow the awards, what of this recognition?
“You want me to provoke them?!” Doyle spluttered. “They’re bound to come after me then, but it won’t be to mend any fences! I’ve kept up my end of this bargain, and now I’m being sold up the river.” “Don’t talk to me like you’re a victim here!” Lucy screamed back at him. “You think what you’ve been doing is honorable in some way? That you deserve respect and fair treatment because of it? I could bring you up on election fraud and a dozen other related charges, without even having to bother using the the murder in Bethesda! Some crazy, disturbed power freak has been trying to influence the election of our national government, and you have been doing his legwork.” She punched a finger into his chest, barely missing the microphone beneath the yacht club logo braided into his chest pocket. “You need to play by my rules, in order for me to protect you. Once this breaks open, there’s going to be a witch hunt in Washington that will make the McCarthy era look like a sunny day in the Eagle Scouts!” Her icy stare would have seemed laughable in any other circumstances, but Doyle felt he was looking into the eyes of a psychopath.
“You’ll probably think this unfair, but you should worry a lot less about your honor, and a lot more about your survival.”
“Quite,”, Doyle replied, “I think I see where you’re coming from now.”
Honor among men, honor among thrives, death before dishonor. Honor before all, highest regard.
I find honor to be a concept I don’t access very easily, or very well – it seems like valor, a term used only for those that are worthy – perhaps military, exceptional police. I don’t find honor to be something that you verb on a regular basis, at least not in my life. It’s too powerful, too extraordinary.
this is what you bring me to work with? well honey, I’ve seen worse. we’re gonna turn this sow*s ear into a silk purse. we’ll have you washed and dried, primped and polished till you glow with pride, trust my recipe for instant bride, you’ll bring honour to us all.
I am an honor to the Universe in how hard I have worked to be a part of the Universal light and source that we should all strive to be. Being a part of the light and source is a blissful and incredible experience that I feel I have not even totally experienced yet. But it is an awesome feeling.
The highest level in the life of any man or woman.
Something I wish I could bear for my family and friends.
A pedestal, a medal, or the acknowledgement of those whom you’ve dreamed of in names and faces only.
He cursed under his breath as his hand trembled before him. He’d pictured this moment a thousand times, but in his fantasies he was so much smoother. She was ten times more beautiful in person, and to be finally be this close to caress her face felt strangely undeserved.
a place to be…military flags what we fight for what we work for to be cherished to be guarded carefully Memorial Day Veterans Day funerals eulogies flowers parades cheers tears laughter meals remembering
I will honor my God up in heaven because He is God of all gods and even His angels.
I honor the memory of you
how you used to touch me
how you used to hold me
how you used to be mine
and how i used to be yours
isn’t it sad that now is all gone
isn’t it sad that now you are gone
isn’t it sad that all we had was time
and it’s all gone
Honor, pft. No one has it anymore. If it isn’t sending selfies or making them billions they don’t want it anymore. Society has boiled down to is materialistic wants. Nothing runs the old course anymore. Honor and respect are just words in the dictionary right now.
Her face shone. She looked just as I’d fantasised she would as she walked down the aisle.
However, I knew what’d seen at the window: defiling heself the very eve before our union.
Thank God for Don John’s honour or I would have been boundin marriage to this whore.
She looked as calm as alake on a breezeless summer’s day. Until I spoke.
If not for my brother’s honour!
My lasting comfort is staring down at her shameless face.
Don John – he has redeemed himself.
Honour is spelt with a ‘u’. American’s got lazy and dropped the ‘u’s from many words. My boss and I bicker about the use of ‘u’ and ‘z’ in emails. Luckily for me I am always right as this company technically uses British English – therefore honour is spelt with a ‘u’.
It’s not a salute
or the medals they wear
the time we spend in danger
with no sense of harm or fear
kept without the limits of restraint
disregard the nature of simple survival
I have none, but I have loyalty. Honor is just a word, but deep down, who really has it?? Can anyone really be honorable? Probably not, probably, who knows.
Here is the point – I really can’t abide by American spellings. where has the U gone? Is there any honour in leaving out something that has been there for hundreds of years. I’d be getting rid of American Spelling if my mob ever got in.
I will not give up
I will give my all;
if only to watch myself fly
when other’s would see me fall
on my honor,
I will achieve that which they have said I cannot
because I want to soar higher
than I ever believed possible
because belief in myself
is the only true test
of my soul.
Honor is an interesting concept. It’s used in the military a lot. I also hear it used in religions I don’t believe in in a negative light. You brought dishonor to our family. I feel like its blind most of the time.
There is so much talk about this word; who has it, who doesn’t. How much of it there is or isn’t. There doesn’t seem to be much left. But I can tell you who had it. My mother, my grandmother, my grandfather, and so much of their generation. What the hell happened to it? It disappeared in a wave of bullshit.
mulan
reminds me of mulan really and well PMA ( honor, integrity and brotherhood?) no i forgot
i dont like this word, its sounds so technical and formal. how do i get creative around it
well for starters honor my body ?
ICY
Serena tried to turn the motor over while Jimmy chipped away at the icy film that has settled on the windscreen. The old Holden was a reluctant starter but it finally coughed and sputtered to life on the fifth or sixth attempt. Jimmy jumped in and rubbed his hands together trying to generate a little warmth. The heater wouldn’t kick in until they well on their way up the highway. It was ridiculously cold for September, there ground was still patchy with snow. ‘He’s not going to be happy, us just showing up out of the blue, you know.’
Serena was beyond caring what her father thought. She had tried for years to build a bridge between them, to repair the damage that had been done after her mother died, but she couldn’t fight the shrew that had moved in and taken over her Dad’s life. She flicked the indicator and headed south towards Melbourne. ‘It’s her I’m going to see. I’m going to settle this once for all.’
In honor of her father, Jennifer Seymour Fleming hung his self-portrait just above the mantle in the living room, where the fireplace was still warm and glowing amber, and the smell of maple and brown sugar still hung in the air from the night before. Whiskey and cookies had been served to the guests then, and glasses had been raised and clinked in the memory of the man who had brought them all together in the first place.
The brother once honoured and revered above the rest of us sat incarcerated in Lodden Prison. Guilty of fraud as declared by the judge, but guilty of so many more crimes against us all. Sunday lunch once a scene of merriment and hope became a dour occasion, we would all sit together quiet and brooding, tarnished by the same brush of familial shame.
It was what he held most highly. like an invisible crown decorating the top of his head. He sat there pompously, quietly sipping away at his tea. His demeanour was calm and collected, almost sarcastic.
Honor to me is somewhat similar to loyalty. I want to have honor although I think of it in a medieval way of thinking, maybe it does not exist in the same way as it once did. It is not a word that is thrown around a lot, I cannot think of a human being that embodies honor.