A little girl ran down a grassy hill, her long brown hair wicked up with the wind. She was laughing, and at the bottom, more children played. A little blonde boy rolled in the grass, his arms covered in mud. The brown-haired girl walked past him to meet her friend, a red-head who was very unusually smelling the ferns. The brown-haired girl, Lyla, asked the other, “Mary, what are you doing with that plant?”. Mary smiled, and handed her a leaf. “It’s an herb, I think. We should pick them and make it into something!” Lyla smelled it, and it was warm and sweet, a perfume of the grass. They gathered bushels of it and stomped it into shapes, little flowers, sweet perfume, and laid in the grass, smiling at the sun.
(Btw, this is based on something that happened to me when I was a little kid).
To be sage and wise is knowing all and all knowing, but no one is that not ever you can be 70 and still not know and understand everything in the world… people need to remember that before casting judgement and hate…
une image au passage d’un sage en mal de rasage, une brume un sage autant trouble l’un que lautre, est ce le sage qui est brumeux ou la brume qui reste sage en attendant un presage? autant faire du repas sage
It burned, smoke curling lazily up to the ceiling- whitish blue. She watched it twist and contort, shapes forming and separating before they could be recognized, like spectral thread.
I went to the garden to pick some fresh sage for the stuffing. I passed the wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow that had taken me down only the night before. Okay. It wasn’t the wheelbarrow. It was my clumsiness. No! Not the alcohol.
She inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet fragrance of the sage. The smell sent her back into another time, with her mom pouring sage over the thanksgiving turkey.
One word was written in half. The colors were green and red. I like potatoes. I read the thing for a few minutes before I saw it. It was really weird, but I’m a psych major, so it was very cool to think about, you know?
I’m not really quite sure what sage is, all I know is that it’s a spice or something. i like it, probably. i like gnocci. in fact, im thinking of asking for gnocci for my birthday. my birthday. im getting really fucking old, and soon im going to die. im just waiting for that time. im going to fucking die.
Sage, as a wise old man once told me, is a traditional herb used in cooking. It compliments bacon and onion, bacon, and onion, telling them: “You look lovely today.”
Sage is a simple word in a simple song… your eyes are sage-colored; you are sage-girl to me when I’m asleep. I don’t remember the color of my own eyes (it’s been so long since I’ve had the courage to look in the mirror) but I have memorized yours. Sage-girl, I know you. Do I have a purpose in the world? Do any of us? Or are we all just here in a little garden of the universe, growing together, entwining and holding each others hands? I pretend to understand you, sage-girl, as you grow old beside me in the garden.
sage is a color that is sort of green. It reminds me of being in a forest of deciduous trees covered in moss. it is a very pretty color. it can be used decoratively. an interesting color to pair with others.
Sage in my garden, sage in my head… your eyes are sage-colored, you are sage-girl to me when I’m asleep. I don’t remember the color of my own eyes (it’s been so long since I’ve had the courage to look in the mirror) but I have memorized yours. Sage-girl, I know you.
Do I have a purpose in the world? Do any of us? Or are we all just here in a little garden of the universe, growing together, entwining and holding each others hands? As you grow old beside me, sage-girl, I understand you better than I’ll ever understand myself.
i believe its an herb of sorts green. probably very smelly. Italian? theres sage collgeg in albany. rachel is might go there. probably not cause she got a better scholarship from cazenovia.
a wonderful spice to add to cooking. it is also a way to give good advice, advice from a wise person…aka sage advice. I like to grow the herb, sage, as well. It is quite fragrant and fun to grow.
i’ve always liked ot throw basil around it smells good. i have neve rreally encountered sage but i would assume it would smell very good too. smelling is such a nice sense to have except when your neighbors smell like trash because of all the stuff they smoke. now i’m thinking wizards. dungeons and dragons!
sage is a color, sort of a green one at that. it’s also an herb or a spice that can be used to cook with. I also believe that it’s a plant, like sage brush. i once knew a girl named Sage. She was crazy, but i found her kind of interesting and entertaining.
I learned how to play scarborough fair on an electric keyboard when I was nine or ten. It reminded me of the smells of the farmers market and of travel and somehow of my mothers shampoo. I wanted to lean down into the garden of notes and deeply inhale. But then the last key was hit.
Sage is slightly upsetting. I don’t understand it. Without you I’m scared, Sage Blossom Girl I don’t understand you I don’t understand anything… please help me sage girl green and sad and simple? Do you have a purpose in this world? Do I? Does anyone, for that matter? Or do we all just grow in the garden of the universe and never understand our own souls?
I pretend to understand you, sage, as I grow old and withering beside you.
what is this so called, “sage” you ask? really im not sure. does this mean i am not intelligent. hmm, what a quandary. ah the clock has run out. now im going to go look up the word sage.
She closed the circle and stepped into her post-ritual robes. The heavy scent of sage and meadowsweet filled the air. She focused on grounding her energies, a radiant sphere of golden light sinking into the floor.
I don’t know if there’s another meaning for sage, except that it’s a shade of green. A darker shade of green, maybe dark like the darkest kind of grass, or even darker. It reminds me of Brightvale from neopets, the armor the one guy wears.
i have no idea what this word means but it reminds me of a sash like a beauty pageant which in my opinion are quite depressing for young girls to watch hmph i know a guy named sage too, its his nickname though
i think of an old guy who’s smart and wise and he’s sitting in front of a fireplace and he’s bald and has a white beard and a smoking jacket on and it’s velvet and red and he’s smoking a cigar and sitting in a big red chair and the room is a study and he kknows just about everything you could ever want to know and he’s got a smirk on his face but not like a cocky smirk like a nice kind of smirk if that even really exists but it’s like he wants to help you and knows he can but he’s not being a jerk about it and you wanna go talk to him cause he looks so smart and you could learn so much from him and you can’t help but wonder what he would say to you if you did talk to him and it’s just really like
This is the third time I’ve had to write about this word. Let’s see. Delicious. It is an herb, in which I cannot describe the taste due to the fact I forget what it tastes like. Green, sprinkly when dried, and evidently the name of a less than hospitable Algebra teacher at my school. I don’t have her, luckily. Let’s make today a good one!
and onion stuffing. With Mum’s roast. My mum makes the best roast dinners. She’s a good cook. I like the colour sage, too. And the scent is quite nice. Renowned for being relaxing.
The sage tasted bitter in her mouth. It came from the garden where the man grew his concoctions, the concoctions that put her into a fitful sleep fraught with nightmares and torturous music. The agonizing sounds of children screaming would haunt her throughout the night when the man gave her and all the little children the poison.
He told me that I was a very ‘sage’ young lady. Having only taken half a year of French class up to that point, I hadn’t known what he meant, and was trying to figure out what he could’ve meant by relating me to an herb.
when I see you cooking in my kitchen, making me something that you know I will love, your ingredients displayed all over the counter. then I’ll think about how much I love you. you, mystery in the shadows of my mind.
A wise person. A shade of green. A herb. Mostly I think of a wise person. I wonder what the origin is that this word is associated with a wise person and an herb? There has to be login behind the correlation. I think of an older person with life experience. Maya Angelou, the grandfather on “The Waltons”, and others.
Sage: delicious herb. Put it in your salad, soups, and breadsticks! **ENDLESS SOUP SALAD AND BREADSTICKS AT OLIVE GARDEN! I like this. My math teacher is Mrs. Sage. Well she isn’t MY math teacher, but she does teach at my school. I hear she’s mean. I have Mr. B. I have no idea what his last name is. Something long and Indian I’m pretty sure.
The sage waves his wand as if a single stroke can heal any wound. Only time heals wounds. But, age IS in “sage” and age IS time…
A little girl ran down a grassy hill, her long brown hair wicked up with the wind. She was laughing, and at the bottom, more children played. A little blonde boy rolled in the grass, his arms covered in mud. The brown-haired girl walked past him to meet her friend, a red-head who was very unusually smelling the ferns. The brown-haired girl, Lyla, asked the other, “Mary, what are you doing with that plant?”. Mary smiled, and handed her a leaf. “It’s an herb, I think. We should pick them and make it into something!” Lyla smelled it, and it was warm and sweet, a perfume of the grass. They gathered bushels of it and stomped it into shapes, little flowers, sweet perfume, and laid in the grass, smiling at the sun.
(Btw, this is based on something that happened to me when I was a little kid).
To be sage and wise is knowing all and all knowing, but no one is that not ever you can be 70 and still not know and understand everything in the world… people need to remember that before casting judgement and hate…
herb, green, fragrent, earthy, spice, sage, oregano, tastes good, like rosemary, italian spices
une image au passage d’un sage en mal de rasage, une brume un sage autant trouble l’un que lautre, est ce le sage qui est brumeux ou la brume qui reste sage en attendant un presage? autant faire du repas sage
It burned, smoke curling lazily up to the ceiling- whitish blue. She watched it twist and contort, shapes forming and separating before they could be recognized, like spectral thread.
The smell of sage makes me nauseous. Just like whenever I can smell the cologne you used to wear.
I went to the garden to pick some fresh sage for the stuffing. I passed the wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow that had taken me down only the night before. Okay. It wasn’t the wheelbarrow. It was my clumsiness. No! Not the alcohol.
She inhaled deeply, smelling the sweet fragrance of the sage. The smell sent her back into another time, with her mom pouring sage over the thanksgiving turkey.
One word was written in half. The colors were green and red. I like potatoes. I read the thing for a few minutes before I saw it. It was really weird, but I’m a psych major, so it was very cool to think about, you know?
I’m not really quite sure what sage is, all I know is that it’s a spice or something. i like it, probably. i like gnocci. in fact, im thinking of asking for gnocci for my birthday. my birthday. im getting really fucking old, and soon im going to die. im just waiting for that time. im going to fucking die.
Sage, as a wise old man once told me, is a traditional herb used in cooking. It compliments bacon and onion, bacon, and onion, telling them: “You look lovely today.”
I smell sage. Relaxing, letting go, dry and brittle and yet, it brings me so much comfort.
Sage is a simple word in a simple song… your eyes are sage-colored; you are sage-girl to me when I’m asleep. I don’t remember the color of my own eyes (it’s been so long since I’ve had the courage to look in the mirror) but I have memorized yours. Sage-girl, I know you. Do I have a purpose in the world? Do any of us? Or are we all just here in a little garden of the universe, growing together, entwining and holding each others hands? I pretend to understand you, sage-girl, as you grow old beside me in the garden.
sage is a color that is sort of green. It reminds me of being in a forest of deciduous trees covered in moss. it is a very pretty color. it can be used decoratively. an interesting color to pair with others.
Sage in my garden, sage in my head… your eyes are sage-colored, you are sage-girl to me when I’m asleep. I don’t remember the color of my own eyes (it’s been so long since I’ve had the courage to look in the mirror) but I have memorized yours. Sage-girl, I know you.
Do I have a purpose in the world? Do any of us? Or are we all just here in a little garden of the universe, growing together, entwining and holding each others hands? As you grow old beside me, sage-girl, I understand you better than I’ll ever understand myself.
i believe its an herb of sorts green. probably very smelly. Italian? theres sage collgeg in albany. rachel is might go there. probably not cause she got a better scholarship from cazenovia.
a wonderful spice to add to cooking. it is also a way to give good advice, advice from a wise person…aka sage advice. I like to grow the herb, sage, as well. It is quite fragrant and fun to grow.
i’ve always liked ot throw basil around it smells good. i have neve rreally encountered sage but i would assume it would smell very good too. smelling is such a nice sense to have except when your neighbors smell like trash because of all the stuff they smoke. now i’m thinking wizards. dungeons and dragons!
sage is a color, sort of a green one at that. it’s also an herb or a spice that can be used to cook with. I also believe that it’s a plant, like sage brush. i once knew a girl named Sage. She was crazy, but i found her kind of interesting and entertaining.
I learned how to play scarborough fair on an electric keyboard when I was nine or ten. It reminded me of the smells of the farmers market and of travel and somehow of my mothers shampoo. I wanted to lean down into the garden of notes and deeply inhale. But then the last key was hit.
Sage is slightly upsetting. I don’t understand it. Without you I’m scared, Sage Blossom Girl I don’t understand you I don’t understand anything… please help me sage girl green and sad and simple? Do you have a purpose in this world? Do I? Does anyone, for that matter? Or do we all just grow in the garden of the universe and never understand our own souls?
I pretend to understand you, sage, as I grow old and withering beside you.
what is this so called, “sage” you ask? really im not sure. does this mean i am not intelligent. hmm, what a quandary. ah the clock has run out. now im going to go look up the word sage.
She closed the circle and stepped into her post-ritual robes. The heavy scent of sage and meadowsweet filled the air. She focused on grounding her energies, a radiant sphere of golden light sinking into the floor.
Is it the smell that brings me back to you? I often wander, but every time I cook with it I can stop thinking of the last time I saw you.
I don’t know if there’s another meaning for sage, except that it’s a shade of green. A darker shade of green, maybe dark like the darkest kind of grass, or even darker. It reminds me of Brightvale from neopets, the armor the one guy wears.
i have no idea what this word means but it reminds me of a sash like a beauty pageant which in my opinion are quite depressing for young girls to watch hmph i know a guy named sage too, its his nickname though
i think of an old guy who’s smart and wise and he’s sitting in front of a fireplace and he’s bald and has a white beard and a smoking jacket on and it’s velvet and red and he’s smoking a cigar and sitting in a big red chair and the room is a study and he kknows just about everything you could ever want to know and he’s got a smirk on his face but not like a cocky smirk like a nice kind of smirk if that even really exists but it’s like he wants to help you and knows he can but he’s not being a jerk about it and you wanna go talk to him cause he looks so smart and you could learn so much from him and you can’t help but wonder what he would say to you if you did talk to him and it’s just really like
This is the third time I’ve had to write about this word. Let’s see. Delicious. It is an herb, in which I cannot describe the taste due to the fact I forget what it tastes like. Green, sprinkly when dried, and evidently the name of a less than hospitable Algebra teacher at my school. I don’t have her, luckily. Let’s make today a good one!
Age. Get older but wisers not the right word. Get older, know more and understand less. Is that wisdom? A life peppered with sage.
Parsley. Sage. Rosemary & Thyme.
As a kid, I had absolutely NO IDEA why that guy was singing about spices.
I guess, I still don’t.
And I really don’t care for sage.
Hmmm. Not a very interesting piece here, huh?
and onion stuffing. With Mum’s roast. My mum makes the best roast dinners. She’s a good cook. I like the colour sage, too. And the scent is quite nice. Renowned for being relaxing.
food, east,china,restoran, spice, m
The sage tasted bitter in her mouth. It came from the garden where the man grew his concoctions, the concoctions that put her into a fitful sleep fraught with nightmares and torturous music. The agonizing sounds of children screaming would haunt her throughout the night when the man gave her and all the little children the poison.
“So what sage advice do you have for me, then? If all this is an illusion, then what do I do? Does it even matter?”
“Of course it matters!” he cried. “Yes, this is an illusion! So is life! EVERYTHING is an illusion! That doesn’t make it meaningless!”
He told me that I was a very ‘sage’ young lady. Having only taken half a year of French class up to that point, I hadn’t known what he meant, and was trying to figure out what he could’ve meant by relating me to an herb.
when I see you cooking in my kitchen, making me something that you know I will love, your ingredients displayed all over the counter. then I’ll think about how much I love you. you, mystery in the shadows of my mind.
A wise person. A shade of green. A herb. Mostly I think of a wise person. I wonder what the origin is that this word is associated with a wise person and an herb? There has to be login behind the correlation. I think of an older person with life experience. Maya Angelou, the grandfather on “The Waltons”, and others.
minde? live hear old
Sage: delicious herb. Put it in your salad, soups, and breadsticks! **ENDLESS SOUP SALAD AND BREADSTICKS AT OLIVE GARDEN! I like this. My math teacher is Mrs. Sage. Well she isn’t MY math teacher, but she does teach at my school. I hear she’s mean. I have Mr. B. I have no idea what his last name is. Something long and Indian I’m pretty sure.