You’re still in me. I don’t want you here anymore. I want you gone. But my heart won’t let go, my body won’t let go, my soul won’t let go. Still, my mind is telling me it’s time. I don’t want to believe it. But last time I listened to my heart, nothing good came of it. So I have to be done with you. I have to get over you. I have to pull you away from me. Yank that tether that kept us together for so long, pull the roots from the very beginning of the reason I can’t let go. And maybe, just maybe I might get over you…and this.
He sits at his desk, the water and fluids in his body pump through every capillary and vessel, electrical impulses resonate inside his skull and flow out of his fingertips like a storm-cloud. His pen moves, divvying out black ink onto the bleached white dried wood pulp, relaying a message for no one in particular. The words represent a cooperation of his liquids and his charge, possibly they will excite the same in others but he does not think about this. He writes. Beneath him is his chair, a long stem that extends from his bottom to the floor, spreading out into a star pattern and it becomes his root to what is real and corporeal, his true influence, the earth.
There was a root to all evil, and I knew it was my mother. Usually, people like me have evil stepmothers, but there was no mistaken that the dark curls and our striking blue eyes were related: that the evil woman figure here, Is my mother.
Uhm, well there is a root in a tree. i mean under a tree. bc that’s where roots go? and also one time i tripped over a root i wis i didn’t do that bc it kinda hurt. i like roots? carrots are roots. i think. uhh 5 seconds D: idk what to put.
roots like in a beet you can visibly see the root there of the circular bulbous red ripe root, and then on the tip it points ever so slightly and it gets white too and you see the brown thin little vine like roots jutting out like little tentacles from a squid or an octopus it’s quite beautiful really.
She was the root of all evil. She never looked back, and i hated her for it. I wish she could see all the pain she causes other people, but i know that is to much to ask for. I know that all she will ever be is that evil girl, ruining peoples life’s wherever she goes. And i love her.
my roots are far from where i stand now, from where i live. my roots are deep grown the the southern louisiana soil, where they flourish from the water that is abundant in every aspect of life down there. when there i thrive, drinking in every ounce of it that i can, of the southern louisiana air and the sweet tea almost as sweet as my grandmother. it is so different from the dry, hot air of kentucky, so very different than the smells of the muddy ohio river. the air is sweet and wet and the plant life is thriving as i am when my body goes back to my roots.
The root of the problem is you, I guess we can’t all take everything from the bottom so we’ll go to the top. Roots are also on your head, my roots are pretty good. Umm family roots, my family is from france and some are Aztec decendants. yay I guess <3
roots stretched out from below her, each one gnarled and beautiful, reminder her of the things she had overcome or breezed through, making her the motley woman she is today. her past was pretty yet at times unpleasant. no fragile thing is without its scars, and she had plenty. but despite the forever heartbreak and broken promises and fallen dreams, she still had a life to live and journeys to journey.
she stood rooted to the floor. her mind in places yesterday. eyes glassy out of focus her mouth hung slightly open.
he’d been watching her stand there from his seat at his terminal. waiting for her to move- it had been a while maybe ten minutes- no doubt infinitely longer or shorter in her mind.
as her head tilted just slightly to the left he mentally compared her to a confused puppy. he supposed puzzled was one way to see her expression, but he suspected she was mostly lost with a touch of uncertain melancholy. her roots were holding her back he concluded.
The root of everything is a beginning. Everyone has one, good or bad. I believe that we also look at it in a certain light and that can also determine the toxicity or benevolence of our roots. For I may say my parents, my root, have their great drawbacks, while others look at them and see the most amazing parents. It’s perspective. But a root, it also shapes you. It’s the beginning of you. Read about the tree in The Bell Jar, and you will understand that from one root, there are infinite posibilities.
I knew where my roots were, and there was nothing I could do to pull them out of the old earth. Weeds tried to surround the roots and choke them of water and nutrients, but in the end, the weeds faltered and withered away. My roots were in pure, reliable ground, and nothing could ever change that. The seasons came and went, but the earth remained throughout it all.
The roots of the stately oak trees reached out long enough underground the Western flank of the garden, to inhibit any ideals that the new owners held for a driveway. The original squire called these trees, with their domineering disposition of branches, by the tall guards of Canterbury.
the root of the issue
was when he first kissed you
and you wouldn’t try to dig it up
you simply roll with each touch
and the core of the condition
is that it was in your own kitchen
that you realized your new mission
wasn’t anything about dishes
but simply to make each issue
just another catalyst for growth
in knowing
that your life is your own
but you’ll make it known
you’ll make a very happy home
but for now all you need to know
is that i’m working on my own
and by the time i’ve grown
i’ll be ready to be owned
Root. Die Wurzel. Rote Wurzeln. Die Erde ist auch rot. Die Wurzeln sind eigentlich weiß. Sie haben abgefärbt. Nein, die Erde hat auf die Wurzeln abgefärbt. Stark eisenhaltig. Da standen früher Flugzeuge. Dann hat sie jemand gegessen und Eisen ge … Naja, du weißt schon. Sehr guter Boden.
That was it. The source of the problem so to speak. The way he looked off to the side at her with this smile he reserved solely for her. I’d never get that. I’d never see his face light up nor the corners of his eyes crinkle. That was purely the Jenny smile. I felt my stomach sink with failure. There it was. She was the root of the problem.
let’s get one thing straight. it wasn’t my fault. I went to the root of the problem and couldn’t find the culprit. Esther says it was Sam and Sam says it was Joanne. Someone is covering something up.
Like a strong hold, tenatious, the thing that is keeping it steady. The root is the but of the metaphor, so there isn’t much to metaphorise about here: That which is strong, basic, raw- young and brutish. Characterised by strong holds and deep penetration.
So this one time, I was very bored, so I read this book of recipes. I decided that I wanted to make a dish of roasted root vegetables. I peeled and cut up some potatoes, kohlrabi, carrots, onions, and garlic and cooked them in the oven with olive oil and rosemary. It was delicious, but the kohlrabi was really woody and gross.
there was a root on the bottom of the tree. of course i would trip over it. But i don’t know i would trip into the the man i would one day fall in love with. His name was Alex Parker. We had been best friends since birth. but that all changed then. I never saw it coming.
Roots and shoots. Or chutes? There was something to that effect at my church, but i’m not really sure what exactly it was about. Something about planting roots among fellow church members? I don’t know. I don’t really care. I’ve kind of grown away from church. I still go for mom, but I don’t know if it’s really doing anything for me any more at this point in my life .. weird, because I always said I’d never be that person. You always turn into what you say you’ll never, be, right?
Her friends were the evil root of everything. I couldn’t do anything about because I didn’t want her to be imprisoned by me. I wanted her to free… But… Somehow, she has changed. From someone whom I know is mature has become into someone childish. How can I love someone like that now?
we pulled it out of the ground
you must grip close to the base, near the soil, or only the stem will snap off in your hand, a quick, sharp, unsatisfactory feeling
not like the lingering, deep drawing out of the tap root
you always brush the hairlike rootlets with your finger after, bewitched
I triped over the root of the tree and stumbled to the ground. No, I thought. I was so close to escpaing the hands of death, but now it was too late. That one stumble has cost me my life. Uless…unless i can stall four and a half minutes until sunrise. Unless…
The Lord says that if we have the faith of a mustard seed we could say to the mountain ‘Be thou pulled up by your root and planted in the sea’. We are more than conquerers and can do anything through Jesus Christ who strengthens us.
The tree spread out before me, a planned riot, controlled. The gardener unbeknownst was left behind as each root spread further out, each leaf a silent shout.
It was thin. Paper thin. The roots under our feet. At the beginning. When we grew they grew longer. Grew deeper. When she came into the picture she took us out of the light and put us in a closet. We ran out of sun, and she didn’t water us. We had died so incredibly easily. And now, Charlie, our roots are growing again. Slowly but surely.
I put my roots down in this place, far from where I was born. Far from my earliest years and fondest memories. Why have I transplanted myself to this place? Will I thrive or will I die?
There is a root to all evil. The bottom-most feeling. Searching for food and water. Hunger pangs. Hair. Square roots. Your home or where you feel most at home.
The root of all my anger lies in you. I used to love you and want you to be in my life, but now all you do is bitch and moan about living in this house.
You say you have to clean everything again after being gone for a week and a half, but you didn’t do anything then, your father did.
Now you don’t want to work because you are unmotivated??
What the hell.
And from the root he picked her a flower. She blushed, he laughed. She asked “Why do you laugh?” he answered “Because everything I do, romantically speaking, you always blush. I laugh, you blush. I kiss you, you blush. It’s quite fascinating.” She blushed. “See?” he declared.
… of all my issues in life. Is it me, or can I attribute all my failings to something that happened t me, that wasn’t my doing, so I can hold no blame?
The roots cascaded down from the earthen ceiling, like fingers, like snakes, like hair, like a waterfall of living matter, seeking out the secrets of the soil and the cavern below.
For one to find the root of the prompt, you root through your mind to analyze the word “root” and root for a successful outcome.
You’re still in me. I don’t want you here anymore. I want you gone. But my heart won’t let go, my body won’t let go, my soul won’t let go. Still, my mind is telling me it’s time. I don’t want to believe it. But last time I listened to my heart, nothing good came of it. So I have to be done with you. I have to get over you. I have to pull you away from me. Yank that tether that kept us together for so long, pull the roots from the very beginning of the reason I can’t let go. And maybe, just maybe I might get over you…and this.
He sits at his desk, the water and fluids in his body pump through every capillary and vessel, electrical impulses resonate inside his skull and flow out of his fingertips like a storm-cloud. His pen moves, divvying out black ink onto the bleached white dried wood pulp, relaying a message for no one in particular. The words represent a cooperation of his liquids and his charge, possibly they will excite the same in others but he does not think about this. He writes. Beneath him is his chair, a long stem that extends from his bottom to the floor, spreading out into a star pattern and it becomes his root to what is real and corporeal, his true influence, the earth.
There was a root to all evil, and I knew it was my mother. Usually, people like me have evil stepmothers, but there was no mistaken that the dark curls and our striking blue eyes were related: that the evil woman figure here, Is my mother.
Uhm, well there is a root in a tree. i mean under a tree. bc that’s where roots go? and also one time i tripped over a root i wis i didn’t do that bc it kinda hurt. i like roots? carrots are roots. i think. uhh 5 seconds D: idk what to put.
roots like in a beet you can visibly see the root there of the circular bulbous red ripe root, and then on the tip it points ever so slightly and it gets white too and you see the brown thin little vine like roots jutting out like little tentacles from a squid or an octopus it’s quite beautiful really.
1.) what hemp is made of
2.) objective for haxing linux
3.) my hair is missing this, apparently, because i’m balding
60 seconds my ass
She was the root of all evil. She never looked back, and i hated her for it. I wish she could see all the pain she causes other people, but i know that is to much to ask for. I know that all she will ever be is that evil girl, ruining peoples life’s wherever she goes. And i love her.
my roots are far from where i stand now, from where i live. my roots are deep grown the the southern louisiana soil, where they flourish from the water that is abundant in every aspect of life down there. when there i thrive, drinking in every ounce of it that i can, of the southern louisiana air and the sweet tea almost as sweet as my grandmother. it is so different from the dry, hot air of kentucky, so very different than the smells of the muddy ohio river. the air is sweet and wet and the plant life is thriving as i am when my body goes back to my roots.
The root of the problem is you, I guess we can’t all take everything from the bottom so we’ll go to the top. Roots are also on your head, my roots are pretty good. Umm family roots, my family is from france and some are Aztec decendants. yay I guess <3
roots stretched out from below her, each one gnarled and beautiful, reminder her of the things she had overcome or breezed through, making her the motley woman she is today. her past was pretty yet at times unpleasant. no fragile thing is without its scars, and she had plenty. but despite the forever heartbreak and broken promises and fallen dreams, she still had a life to live and journeys to journey.
she stood rooted to the floor. her mind in places yesterday. eyes glassy out of focus her mouth hung slightly open.
he’d been watching her stand there from his seat at his terminal. waiting for her to move- it had been a while maybe ten minutes- no doubt infinitely longer or shorter in her mind.
as her head tilted just slightly to the left he mentally compared her to a confused puppy. he supposed puzzled was one way to see her expression, but he suspected she was mostly lost with a touch of uncertain melancholy. her roots were holding her back he concluded.
The root of everything is a beginning. Everyone has one, good or bad. I believe that we also look at it in a certain light and that can also determine the toxicity or benevolence of our roots. For I may say my parents, my root, have their great drawbacks, while others look at them and see the most amazing parents. It’s perspective. But a root, it also shapes you. It’s the beginning of you. Read about the tree in The Bell Jar, and you will understand that from one root, there are infinite posibilities.
I knew where my roots were, and there was nothing I could do to pull them out of the old earth. Weeds tried to surround the roots and choke them of water and nutrients, but in the end, the weeds faltered and withered away. My roots were in pure, reliable ground, and nothing could ever change that. The seasons came and went, but the earth remained throughout it all.
The roots of the stately oak trees reached out long enough underground the Western flank of the garden, to inhibit any ideals that the new owners held for a driveway. The original squire called these trees, with their domineering disposition of branches, by the tall guards of Canterbury.
he broke all root with aridzona an tied his knot in birdnamona
the root of the issue
was when he first kissed you
and you wouldn’t try to dig it up
you simply roll with each touch
and the core of the condition
is that it was in your own kitchen
that you realized your new mission
wasn’t anything about dishes
but simply to make each issue
just another catalyst for growth
in knowing
that your life is your own
but you’ll make it known
you’ll make a very happy home
but for now all you need to know
is that i’m working on my own
and by the time i’ve grown
i’ll be ready to be owned
© LL
Root. Die Wurzel. Rote Wurzeln. Die Erde ist auch rot. Die Wurzeln sind eigentlich weiß. Sie haben abgefärbt. Nein, die Erde hat auf die Wurzeln abgefärbt. Stark eisenhaltig. Da standen früher Flugzeuge. Dann hat sie jemand gegessen und Eisen ge … Naja, du weißt schon. Sehr guter Boden.
That was it. The source of the problem so to speak. The way he looked off to the side at her with this smile he reserved solely for her. I’d never get that. I’d never see his face light up nor the corners of his eyes crinkle. That was purely the Jenny smile. I felt my stomach sink with failure. There it was. She was the root of the problem.
let’s get one thing straight. it wasn’t my fault. I went to the root of the problem and couldn’t find the culprit. Esther says it was Sam and Sam says it was Joanne. Someone is covering something up.
it is the most successful part of my life to see that the root of everything in the world is based on root of family. therefore it would be so nice
Like a strong hold, tenatious, the thing that is keeping it steady. The root is the but of the metaphor, so there isn’t much to metaphorise about here: That which is strong, basic, raw- young and brutish. Characterised by strong holds and deep penetration.
So this one time, I was very bored, so I read this book of recipes. I decided that I wanted to make a dish of roasted root vegetables. I peeled and cut up some potatoes, kohlrabi, carrots, onions, and garlic and cooked them in the oven with olive oil and rosemary. It was delicious, but the kohlrabi was really woody and gross.
i’m growing my roots while being hours away from this place.
i’m growing roots out of longing, missing, loving, forgetting.
there was a root on the bottom of the tree. of course i would trip over it. But i don’t know i would trip into the the man i would one day fall in love with. His name was Alex Parker. We had been best friends since birth. but that all changed then. I never saw it coming.
Roots and shoots. Or chutes? There was something to that effect at my church, but i’m not really sure what exactly it was about. Something about planting roots among fellow church members? I don’t know. I don’t really care. I’ve kind of grown away from church. I still go for mom, but I don’t know if it’s really doing anything for me any more at this point in my life .. weird, because I always said I’d never be that person. You always turn into what you say you’ll never, be, right?
Roots to grow, roots to leave. Roots to bend, roots to break. Which one is gonna be your story?
Her friends were the evil root of everything. I couldn’t do anything about because I didn’t want her to be imprisoned by me. I wanted her to free… But… Somehow, she has changed. From someone whom I know is mature has become into someone childish. How can I love someone like that now?
we pulled it out of the ground
you must grip close to the base, near the soil, or only the stem will snap off in your hand, a quick, sharp, unsatisfactory feeling
not like the lingering, deep drawing out of the tap root
you always brush the hairlike rootlets with your finger after, bewitched
I triped over the root of the tree and stumbled to the ground. No, I thought. I was so close to escpaing the hands of death, but now it was too late. That one stumble has cost me my life. Uless…unless i can stall four and a half minutes until sunrise. Unless…
The Lord says that if we have the faith of a mustard seed we could say to the mountain ‘Be thou pulled up by your root and planted in the sea’. We are more than conquerers and can do anything through Jesus Christ who strengthens us.
My roots, my foundation, my reason to keep pressing forward. I love you
The tree spread out before me, a planned riot, controlled. The gardener unbeknownst was left behind as each root spread further out, each leaf a silent shout.
It was thin. Paper thin. The roots under our feet. At the beginning. When we grew they grew longer. Grew deeper. When she came into the picture she took us out of the light and put us in a closet. We ran out of sun, and she didn’t water us. We had died so incredibly easily. And now, Charlie, our roots are growing again. Slowly but surely.
I put my roots down in this place, far from where I was born. Far from my earliest years and fondest memories. Why have I transplanted myself to this place? Will I thrive or will I die?
There is a root to all evil. The bottom-most feeling. Searching for food and water. Hunger pangs. Hair. Square roots. Your home or where you feel most at home.
The root of all my anger lies in you. I used to love you and want you to be in my life, but now all you do is bitch and moan about living in this house.
You say you have to clean everything again after being gone for a week and a half, but you didn’t do anything then, your father did.
Now you don’t want to work because you are unmotivated??
What the hell.
And from the root he picked her a flower. She blushed, he laughed. She asked “Why do you laugh?” he answered “Because everything I do, romantically speaking, you always blush. I laugh, you blush. I kiss you, you blush. It’s quite fascinating.” She blushed. “See?” he declared.
… of all my issues in life. Is it me, or can I attribute all my failings to something that happened t me, that wasn’t my doing, so I can hold no blame?
The roots cascaded down from the earthen ceiling, like fingers, like snakes, like hair, like a waterfall of living matter, seeking out the secrets of the soil and the cavern below.