I could hear the engine going, but I was scared half to death. Why you might ask, because a, the steering wheel was stuck, 2, the brake wouldn’t work, and q, the car was going off a cliff. I AM DOOOOOMED.
so tired. so tired. I shouldn’t be tired. my engine should be full. i should be ready. ready for the day. but i am not. i am tired. i am empty. i am dead.
My son, Vaughn, has lots of train engines that he plays with a lot. He likes Thomas the Train and has a train table at home that was given to him by some very kind people.
He started the engine and the machine roared to life. The propeller blew his hair across his face, whipping brown strands of hair towards the sky. “Come on!” He yelled, extending a gloved hand to the young girl.
The engine was big and rowdy, making gurgling noises that not human being (or animal) could ever make. It growled like a dog, but also purred like a cat. Spewing oil and dust everywhere, no one had any idea why it was sitting back there in the corner.
The engine was roaring. I could hear the heat blast out the edges like a teapot. I kept driving. The last thing i wanted to do was to die in the desert. We hadn’t past a car or any living thing in what seemed like decades. Yes decades. Ages is too long for this emotion. All we knew is that we needed a rest stop. Please let us get to a rest stop.
My heart. Her cries. My tears. Her wails. My sorrow. Her pain. Everything stopped. My mind, usually a racing engine, has stopped too. I can’t think. I only feel. What is this? Why am I feeling unnecessary emotions for someone I barely care about? I only met Amy a few weeks ago and now she’s here. On the road, bleeding. We were chasing the criminal and she wasn’t quick enough to dodge that bloody car. “I’m fine, Sherlock. Really I’m alright,” she says weakly. I hold her hand. Physical contact isn’t really my area but I just held her hand. To show her that even though caring isn’t an advantage in my opinion, I’ll be there for her. Like how she was there for me too.
It moves her pushes her makes her move beyond that which she thought was impossible. Its sleek silver exterior, the kinks interrupting a liquid flow of sleek cold power. She pushes it into her hip, right above her thigh, and flexes her waist a few times to feel the wiring click into place.
An engine is the best thing in the world. It powers cars and other vehicles. Some ways of powering engines can be electricity. there are many uses for an engine.
I can’t rev up my engine. The car is dead. This totally blows. My heart pounding, I try frantically to start the care only to give up and run away. Those freaking huge monsters are after me and I really want to get a huuuuge headstart – especially when one of them used to be my only love and best friend. Running is the only thing on my mind now.
It’s the power that comes from a focus, knowing where you are going. Having fuel in you and someone to navigate so you don’t go off the path… but above all it’s driving force that comes from having a goal, that makes you an engine, that can lead others.
engine here means a automobile’s engine.it plays a very important role in a vehicle”s movement.it takes part in the burning process of the petrol or diesel and makes the vehicle to move.
his engine roared as he slid inside. she felt the red hot rush of heat emanating off his chest. he hungered for her. he flung into third gear, giving no notice or warning. it was more than she could handle. she threw her arms out in ecstasy, squealing with excitement. the wind rushed around them, whipping theyre hair back. the sun was setting and the moon was rising, waves crashed on the shoreline. it was a beautiful day to die.
roaring hot, greasy motor snot, heat from metal and vibrations that stick to the skin between your finger snap, tubes into the dark mystery of the engine, so many things that can ruin your day if they lose their nerve.
Great. This word. A word I couldn’t possibly relate to the only thing I could possibly write about at the moment. Engine. What a waste of a creative spurt. What a tragedy. All this, supposedly dedicated to an engine. It could be worse though.
I feel a burning inside of myself, racing as fast as the engine of the machine that powers the center of the city. I imagine flames leaping up and licking the inside of my skin, burning it black and I wish that I could exhale smoke. Nathaniel is looking at me with dangerous eyes and I know that he’s right to fight. I’m next to him, and when he lowers his eyes, giving me the signal, I charge.
The car’s engine was overheating. Cybersix got out to check, but she forgot that the car was still moving and so rolled down the road until she was stopped by a Companion Cube that had been left in the road for some reason. Probably GLaDOS was trying to get someone to run over it.
The engine was sputtering to a stop. Maddie’s heart fluttered. She threw her shawl over her shoulders and fixed her hair before grabbing her luggabe and going toward the aisle. She looked out at the shore, it was just on the horizon.
His heart pumped as hard as a steam engine. He almost felt as warm as one too, as if maybe if he jumped in a swimming pool steam would come billowing from his body. Why was his boss calling him to the upstairs office? No one ever got called to the upstairs office. Did they know? Did they know of the terrible thing he thought he might have done? “Breathe. Stay calm.” He thought. “You’re innocent. You did nothing wrong.”
Stalling out. Coasting to a stop. Lucky this stretch was a soft slow downhill ride. Blazing sun, tall trees, cool stream . . . wish I was closer to town.
Carolina train and the engine’s burning down can’t hear a sound except the whistle between her lips as she runs straight into the ground. Carolina train’s been running like a freight out every night till late always on the same first date.
Fuel! I need fuel! Give me the damn dead fossil fuel! Tidy up you say!? Miss the point you say!? I reckon you don’t have a single hair of fine line in you ya damn prick! Now give me the fuel!
the car roared into the stage. Mr. Magee, the rapid racer tycoon, is ready for the intense battle against his arch rival. along his side, the cars wavered when the traffic lights blinked red, yellow, then GO!
Engines make cars work. Engines help you write your school paper. Our bodies are engines, running on fuel in order to push us forward, in one way or another. Engine is one of those words that if I look at it too long, it doesn’t look like a word at all.
My parents car has an engine.
My mom works like a fast engine.
A car won’t work without an engine.
Trains have engines.
Engineers have the word engine in it.
The engine in a car can break if you’re not careful.
My heart is the engine of my body.
There are certain proficiencies that I’ve always wished I had, like the ability to cook more than one dish to be ready at the same time, or being able to french braid my own hair. One of the big ones has always been the ability to look at an engine and not picture myself as the Little Mermaid, who has to all forks thingamajigs and music boxes whatjamacallit. This urge to learn anything about the mechanics of my car tend to hibernate until that point that I have to trust a relative stranger to not take total advantage of my naivete.
Calibrating. 1. . . 2 . . 3! All engines revved up! Boom! There goes the dynamite as it smokes through the competition! It went past by all the cars and wheels in front of him and it never looked more easier that that. The driver, he is smiling. Smiling not because of this accomplishment but because of the normalcy of the event
“Engine engine number nine,
Coming on the transit line,
___Pick it up pick it up”
That’s from some song I can’t fully remember but the tune is still intact, and isn’t that beautiful, the power of music, serious deeper than we care to know.
The engine kicked into life. They were almost ready to go, only Beck hadn’t arrived yet. He should have been there by now with their new ID’s and the rest of the team was beginning to worry. They had made a clean escape from the bank, but without Beck and the ID’s they were grounded.
Sputtering halts and jerking movement. Violent exhales of burnt-smelling black smoke, clouding vision and wrinkling nostrils. The engine rattled from deep within the confines of the machine—a loud, eerie noise punctuated by coughs of burnt-rubber smell and fierce, clanking shudders.
i can go without sleepin but no one can hear me ticking.
i just dream and help myself to be a better person.
I could hear the engine going, but I was scared half to death. Why you might ask, because a, the steering wheel was stuck, 2, the brake wouldn’t work, and q, the car was going off a cliff. I AM DOOOOOMED.
so tired. so tired. I shouldn’t be tired. my engine should be full. i should be ready. ready for the day. but i am not. i am tired. i am empty. i am dead.
My son, Vaughn, has lots of train engines that he plays with a lot. He likes Thomas the Train and has a train table at home that was given to him by some very kind people.
He started the engine and the machine roared to life. The propeller blew his hair across his face, whipping brown strands of hair towards the sky. “Come on!” He yelled, extending a gloved hand to the young girl.
engine pulls the railway, It is also used in car, bus and in every vehicle to pull it forward and backward. it uses diesal or petrol as input
The engine was big and rowdy, making gurgling noises that not human being (or animal) could ever make. It growled like a dog, but also purred like a cat. Spewing oil and dust everywhere, no one had any idea why it was sitting back there in the corner.
The engine was roaring. I could hear the heat blast out the edges like a teapot. I kept driving. The last thing i wanted to do was to die in the desert. We hadn’t past a car or any living thing in what seemed like decades. Yes decades. Ages is too long for this emotion. All we knew is that we needed a rest stop. Please let us get to a rest stop.
My heart. Her cries. My tears. Her wails. My sorrow. Her pain. Everything stopped. My mind, usually a racing engine, has stopped too. I can’t think. I only feel. What is this? Why am I feeling unnecessary emotions for someone I barely care about? I only met Amy a few weeks ago and now she’s here. On the road, bleeding. We were chasing the criminal and she wasn’t quick enough to dodge that bloody car. “I’m fine, Sherlock. Really I’m alright,” she says weakly. I hold her hand. Physical contact isn’t really my area but I just held her hand. To show her that even though caring isn’t an advantage in my opinion, I’ll be there for her. Like how she was there for me too.
Pistons moving, north and south, gears clicking, tongue in throat, massive workings, here and there, running, pausing, reeling, steam and smoke, faster and harder, holding onto what seemed broken, suddenly changing, moving, pistons sliding, changing, moving, reeling, nonstop, faster, harder, faster…
He awoke.
John jolted next to him. A quizzical look, concern.
Even in sleep, his mind didn’t stop. John understood, arms wrapped around him, you’re safe.
He cried.
The pistons slowed.
It moves her pushes her makes her move beyond that which she thought was impossible. Its sleek silver exterior, the kinks interrupting a liquid flow of sleek cold power. She pushes it into her hip, right above her thigh, and flexes her waist a few times to feel the wiring click into place.
An engine is the best thing in the world. It powers cars and other vehicles. Some ways of powering engines can be electricity. there are many uses for an engine.
I can’t rev up my engine. The car is dead. This totally blows. My heart pounding, I try frantically to start the care only to give up and run away. Those freaking huge monsters are after me and I really want to get a huuuuge headstart – especially when one of them used to be my only love and best friend. Running is the only thing on my mind now.
It’s the power that comes from a focus, knowing where you are going. Having fuel in you and someone to navigate so you don’t go off the path… but above all it’s driving force that comes from having a goal, that makes you an engine, that can lead others.
engine here means a automobile’s engine.it plays a very important role in a vehicle”s movement.it takes part in the burning process of the petrol or diesel and makes the vehicle to move.
his engine roared as he slid inside. she felt the red hot rush of heat emanating off his chest. he hungered for her. he flung into third gear, giving no notice or warning. it was more than she could handle. she threw her arms out in ecstasy, squealing with excitement. the wind rushed around them, whipping theyre hair back. the sun was setting and the moon was rising, waves crashed on the shoreline. it was a beautiful day to die.
My brother is becoming a civil engineer. He and I are very different people… I could never do something like that for a living.
Engine grind sprockets roll round and round
The earths lost its circle when men stood up,
Backs breaking gravity tower over all that would be,
roaring hot, greasy motor snot, heat from metal and vibrations that stick to the skin between your finger snap, tubes into the dark mystery of the engine, so many things that can ruin your day if they lose their nerve.
Great. This word. A word I couldn’t possibly relate to the only thing I could possibly write about at the moment. Engine. What a waste of a creative spurt. What a tragedy. All this, supposedly dedicated to an engine. It could be worse though.
I feel a burning inside of myself, racing as fast as the engine of the machine that powers the center of the city. I imagine flames leaping up and licking the inside of my skin, burning it black and I wish that I could exhale smoke. Nathaniel is looking at me with dangerous eyes and I know that he’s right to fight. I’m next to him, and when he lowers his eyes, giving me the signal, I charge.
Brooooom broom. Motor on my mind. Power through my core. Grease me up, drive me wild. Power through the sytem.
The car’s engine was overheating. Cybersix got out to check, but she forgot that the car was still moving and so rolled down the road until she was stopped by a Companion Cube that had been left in the road for some reason. Probably GLaDOS was trying to get someone to run over it.
The engine was sputtering to a stop. Maddie’s heart fluttered. She threw her shawl over her shoulders and fixed her hair before grabbing her luggabe and going toward the aisle. She looked out at the shore, it was just on the horizon.
His heart pumped as hard as a steam engine. He almost felt as warm as one too, as if maybe if he jumped in a swimming pool steam would come billowing from his body. Why was his boss calling him to the upstairs office? No one ever got called to the upstairs office. Did they know? Did they know of the terrible thing he thought he might have done? “Breathe. Stay calm.” He thought. “You’re innocent. You did nothing wrong.”
Stalling out. Coasting to a stop. Lucky this stretch was a soft slow downhill ride. Blazing sun, tall trees, cool stream . . . wish I was closer to town.
Carolina train and the engine’s burning down can’t hear a sound except the whistle between her lips as she runs straight into the ground. Carolina train’s been running like a freight out every night till late always on the same first date.
Fuel! I need fuel! Give me the damn dead fossil fuel! Tidy up you say!? Miss the point you say!? I reckon you don’t have a single hair of fine line in you ya damn prick! Now give me the fuel!
the car roared into the stage. Mr. Magee, the rapid racer tycoon, is ready for the intense battle against his arch rival. along his side, the cars wavered when the traffic lights blinked red, yellow, then GO!
Engines make cars work. Engines help you write your school paper. Our bodies are engines, running on fuel in order to push us forward, in one way or another. Engine is one of those words that if I look at it too long, it doesn’t look like a word at all.
My parents car has an engine.
My mom works like a fast engine.
A car won’t work without an engine.
Trains have engines.
Engineers have the word engine in it.
The engine in a car can break if you’re not careful.
My heart is the engine of my body.
There are certain proficiencies that I’ve always wished I had, like the ability to cook more than one dish to be ready at the same time, or being able to french braid my own hair. One of the big ones has always been the ability to look at an engine and not picture myself as the Little Mermaid, who has to all forks thingamajigs and music boxes whatjamacallit. This urge to learn anything about the mechanics of my car tend to hibernate until that point that I have to trust a relative stranger to not take total advantage of my naivete.
Calibrating. 1. . . 2 . . 3! All engines revved up! Boom! There goes the dynamite as it smokes through the competition! It went past by all the cars and wheels in front of him and it never looked more easier that that. The driver, he is smiling. Smiling not because of this accomplishment but because of the normalcy of the event
“Engine engine number nine,
Coming on the transit line,
___Pick it up pick it up”
That’s from some song I can’t fully remember but the tune is still intact, and isn’t that beautiful, the power of music, serious deeper than we care to know.
The engine kicked into life. They were almost ready to go, only Beck hadn’t arrived yet. He should have been there by now with their new ID’s and the rest of the team was beginning to worry. They had made a clean escape from the bank, but without Beck and the ID’s they were grounded.
Sputtering halts and jerking movement. Violent exhales of burnt-smelling black smoke, clouding vision and wrinkling nostrils. The engine rattled from deep within the confines of the machine—a loud, eerie noise punctuated by coughs of burnt-rubber smell and fierce, clanking shudders.
red fire burning
a sorrowful sight
a burning bridge
satanic delight
the engine it roars
down main street
screaming sirens galore
and lights that beat
a team pours out
used to propel objects
There is more to this speed than its faulty engine; its engineer is slow to making adjustments.
There is a motocycle outside of my house that have a engine so loud. It’s sounds powerful