“Sticks and stones, sticks and stones,” the old man muttered under his breath as he shuffled between the rows, hunching over his walking stick. Damien looked up from his study to watch him walk past. A strange old man, he thought. He certainly doesn’t seem to have the mindset of a librarian.
sticks…wooden, sometimes thin sometimes much thicker. when used effectively, can build rafts and even more effectively used to build houses!!! on a more commercial scale its used as firewood!
His heart pounded and his mind raced. Sticks and stones my break his bones…but words can make people actually use them. Silently he cursed his tongue, how he always said the wrong things, and pushed on, though his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. His pursuers could be heard clearly behind him, their heavy footfalls thudding on the pavement as they spat venomous insults and threats.
Sticks and stones surround her, as she waits for the news. Sitting by the lake, with the sounds of summer laughter, she can’t help but be consumed by this all too ironic noise for such a somber day of her life. Without words, without love, she waits.
Sticks and stones may brake my bones.
words are nothing to me.
you are nothing to me.
the sticks are the only important thing.
you hit me
i’ll kill you.
sticks and stones:
that which breaks my
hones my skills and frees my
grind the earth with teeth to eat my
birds fly by and i can’t recall how I arrived.
Sticks were strewn across the courtyard as the boys marched towards the front gate. They had arrived. In the antechamber Poi assembled the weapons and pressed each bladed staff onto the hand of every boy that walked past. It was the time of their trial.
The sticks stuck to the back of the motorcycle. Clyde used his boot to try and pry them off, but they seemed to stay there no matter what. His girlfriend was getting inpatient, and she wanted to leave, but Clyde could not get his motorcycle to run.
Sticks. Makes me think of boats, oddly. Minecraft, reasonwise. Also, spoons. And summer camp, all those years ago. Memories once bundled so close, now all strewn about…
she sticks to him every day and every night. can’t get him out of her head. she never felt this way with someone before. she loves him and she hates him, she doesn’t know what to do. she’s not sure about wanting it to end.
The sticks crunched under Alex’s feet. This forest looked deserted, but he couldn’t be sure. Something didn’t feel quite right. Behind him, Chris and Ben seemed to be having a grand old time, but Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Sticks are these little things that usually come off of trees, or for that matter, any plant life. They are dry, tend to be really rough, but not always. They burn very well when fire is applied to them. They make great burning material for making burgers on a grill.
Pick up sticks. I had a book- a huge one- full of poems and pictures and games. Maybe I gave it away a long time ago. Then again, it might be in the garage collecting dust, and I think I’m too old to be collecting plastic sticks.
sticks are everywhere they cover forests, little bits of ancient trees. sticks have seen history, silent observers of the times of humanity and beyond, before and after
sticks are very silly things in the first sight. well, they are not so. look at the philosophical message they give. how different are you from a stick?
the way it feels sometimes on the bottom of the social scale, under the load of negativity that abounds inside and out, ungratefully looking in the mirror, or into the eyes of someone who your heart thought loved you.
Sticks. It sticks to me, you stick with me more then I thought one person ever could. You were and are a huge part of me even though we ended so long ago. For some reason I just can’t get you out of my head. Obviously because I made the connection to you from the word sticks.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Sticks can break in half and each piece can still be called a stick. I can be broken in half, but in the end I am still me and I need to live and be strong. Sticks build the tree of life.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words are simple tools used to communicate ideas. Communication exists to create common ground, and communicating hateful ideas creates the belief that the recipient is to be hated.
Things like that don’t often go forgotten quite as easily as they are said. The simplicity of a mere word makes one wonder how something so miserly packs such a punch. That’s the funny thing about the truth…it sticks around much like a shirt does to a fat boy’s sweaty back, and just as unexpectedly as it came out, it dissipates into the vast and garbled expanses of our universe; remembered yet entirely forgotten.
there are twenty sticks in my backyard. they are heavy and i want to move them but they are wet from the rain and they have bugs and sap on them. they could be burned in a fire if they weren’t so wet.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. WHAT A LIE. I don’t remember who first said that to me as a child but they are responsable for some serious misconceptions. Words are razor blades, sometimes the woulds left by words never heal whilst those of the flesh heal without hinderance.
Sticks.
Not usually the first thing that comes to mind when creating a mind-blowing masterpiece. All I can seem to think of is beating a piñata with a stick now. Perhaps, I should write my name in the sand with a random stick, just sticking out of the mud. To leave my mark as simple as that would be remarkable.
Sticks fall into place, softly landing on the grass beneath a large maple tree. The arrange themselves into different shapes, patterns, and images — things you would never imagine, and things you wished you could. They were barren with nothing but the hope of the follwing spring to bring them back to life.
sticks are pretty cool. I don’t really know too much about them. But i know when you pick them up they can be used as a sword so that little boys can practice saving the princess! But if you step on them, they’ll make a cracking noise when they break. Which is kind of sad, like you’re breaking the stick’s spine. Ow.
sticks are good because they were by teachers to keep us students in a disciplined way and taught us about the rights and wrongs of the life… I was never got hit by the sticks as I was a good student. :)
sticks are from trees. they are brown with leaves on them. most of the time anyways. sometimes, people have sticks up their assholes which makes them assholes…. no body likes assholes. they should be more friendly and throw sticks for dogs to chase and play fetch with and such…. that would be lovely. then they wouldn’t be such assholes….
sticks get stuck in dicks when you get an std test,
sticks have never broken my bones.
i like red lipstick but i only own chapstick.
stickers are great, but cute ones are hard to find, i stick em all over my notebook and wall.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Except, they will. Because that’s the human condition. Every word stings, every thought digs deeper than any cut a stick or a stone may bring.
Well you can make a shitload of things out of sticks. The problem is they are only straight. Fucking sticks are only straight. Sometimes a bundle of sticks are called fags. But Fags dont like using sticks a load of the time. Sticks can be used for fire, or home building, or throwing at hookers. But sticks are fucking amazing as it is. Sticks to the power of fuck yeah!
sti
stick are made from trees and trees come from the forest. the forest is full of beautiful fairies and unicorns too. you can find the best forests in narnia. you only have to go through the wardrobe. make sure to bring some water and sunscreen. those are important things often overlooked.
“Sticks and stones, sticks and stones,” the old man muttered under his breath as he shuffled between the rows, hunching over his walking stick. Damien looked up from his study to watch him walk past. A strange old man, he thought. He certainly doesn’t seem to have the mindset of a librarian.
Sticks and stones can break my bones… But words can never hurt me. ….They LIED.
sticks…wooden, sometimes thin sometimes much thicker. when used effectively, can build rafts and even more effectively used to build houses!!! on a more commercial scale its used as firewood!
His heart pounded and his mind raced. Sticks and stones my break his bones…but words can make people actually use them. Silently he cursed his tongue, how he always said the wrong things, and pushed on, though his lungs felt as if they were about to burst. His pursuers could be heard clearly behind him, their heavy footfalls thudding on the pavement as they spat venomous insults and threats.
and stones may break my bones but names will probably hurt me more
Sticks and stones surround her, as she waits for the news. Sitting by the lake, with the sounds of summer laughter, she can’t help but be consumed by this all too ironic noise for such a somber day of her life. Without words, without love, she waits.
Sticks and stones may brake my bones.
words are nothing to me.
you are nothing to me.
the sticks are the only important thing.
you hit me
i’ll kill you.
sticks and stones:
that which breaks my
hones my skills and frees my
grind the earth with teeth to eat my
birds fly by and i can’t recall how I arrived.
Sticks were strewn across the courtyard as the boys marched towards the front gate. They had arrived. In the antechamber Poi assembled the weapons and pressed each bladed staff onto the hand of every boy that walked past. It was the time of their trial.
The sticks stuck to the back of the motorcycle. Clyde used his boot to try and pry them off, but they seemed to stay there no matter what. His girlfriend was getting inpatient, and she wanted to leave, but Clyde could not get his motorcycle to run.
Sticks. Makes me think of boats, oddly. Minecraft, reasonwise. Also, spoons. And summer camp, all those years ago. Memories once bundled so close, now all strewn about…
she sticks to him every day and every night. can’t get him out of her head. she never felt this way with someone before. she loves him and she hates him, she doesn’t know what to do. she’s not sure about wanting it to end.
The sticks crunched under Alex’s feet. This forest looked deserted, but he couldn’t be sure. Something didn’t feel quite right. Behind him, Chris and Ben seemed to be having a grand old time, but Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
Sticks are these little things that usually come off of trees, or for that matter, any plant life. They are dry, tend to be really rough, but not always. They burn very well when fire is applied to them. They make great burning material for making burgers on a grill.
Pick up sticks. I had a book- a huge one- full of poems and pictures and games. Maybe I gave it away a long time ago. Then again, it might be in the garage collecting dust, and I think I’m too old to be collecting plastic sticks.
sticks come from trees trees come from seeds seeds come from trees. there are also leaves that are on trees. sticks are brown and are used for fire.
sticks are everywhere they cover forests, little bits of ancient trees. sticks have seen history, silent observers of the times of humanity and beyond, before and after
sticks are very silly things in the first sight. well, they are not so. look at the philosophical message they give. how different are you from a stick?
Long beautiful trees. Dark forest. Burned forest. Childhood toys. Memory makers. Weapons. Painful earth. Slow death. Sees and watches everything.
the way it feels sometimes on the bottom of the social scale, under the load of negativity that abounds inside and out, ungratefully looking in the mirror, or into the eyes of someone who your heart thought loved you.
Sticks. It sticks to me, you stick with me more then I thought one person ever could. You were and are a huge part of me even though we ended so long ago. For some reason I just can’t get you out of my head. Obviously because I made the connection to you from the word sticks.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Sticks can break in half and each piece can still be called a stick. I can be broken in half, but in the end I am still me and I need to live and be strong. Sticks build the tree of life.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words are simple tools used to communicate ideas. Communication exists to create common ground, and communicating hateful ideas creates the belief that the recipient is to be hated.
hit them with sticks in the face
dont do anything else just that
run to the back of the building
plant a tree for future sticks
I’m going to use these sticks to start a fire. Maybe then I’ll get off this godforsaken island.
It’s been three days. Will the rescue copters see my fire? Will they see me waving my hands frantically?
Will they even come?
Things like that don’t often go forgotten quite as easily as they are said. The simplicity of a mere word makes one wonder how something so miserly packs such a punch. That’s the funny thing about the truth…it sticks around much like a shirt does to a fat boy’s sweaty back, and just as unexpectedly as it came out, it dissipates into the vast and garbled expanses of our universe; remembered yet entirely forgotten.
there are twenty sticks in my backyard. they are heavy and i want to move them but they are wet from the rain and they have bugs and sap on them. they could be burned in a fire if they weren’t so wet.
Sticks and stones may break my bones. And sometimes they do.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. WHAT A LIE. I don’t remember who first said that to me as a child but they are responsable for some serious misconceptions. Words are razor blades, sometimes the woulds left by words never heal whilst those of the flesh heal without hinderance.
Sticks.
Not usually the first thing that comes to mind when creating a mind-blowing masterpiece. All I can seem to think of is beating a piñata with a stick now. Perhaps, I should write my name in the sand with a random stick, just sticking out of the mud. To leave my mark as simple as that would be remarkable.
Sticks fall into place, softly landing on the grass beneath a large maple tree. The arrange themselves into different shapes, patterns, and images — things you would never imagine, and things you wished you could. They were barren with nothing but the hope of the follwing spring to bring them back to life.
sticks and stones may break my bones but chains and whips excite me, eh rihanna?
some things just stick. two people, like magnets. one person and their passion for that certain something. words. foods. books.
what is it about me that doesn’t stick? i find chemistry with a person, and it never sticks.
where’s my glue gun?
sticks are pretty cool. I don’t really know too much about them. But i know when you pick them up they can be used as a sword so that little boys can practice saving the princess! But if you step on them, they’ll make a cracking noise when they break. Which is kind of sad, like you’re breaking the stick’s spine. Ow.
sticks are good because they were by teachers to keep us students in a disciplined way and taught us about the rights and wrongs of the life… I was never got hit by the sticks as I was a good student. :)
sticks are from trees. they are brown with leaves on them. most of the time anyways. sometimes, people have sticks up their assholes which makes them assholes…. no body likes assholes. they should be more friendly and throw sticks for dogs to chase and play fetch with and such…. that would be lovely. then they wouldn’t be such assholes….
sticks get stuck in dicks when you get an std test,
sticks have never broken my bones.
i like red lipstick but i only own chapstick.
stickers are great, but cute ones are hard to find, i stick em all over my notebook and wall.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Except, they will. Because that’s the human condition. Every word stings, every thought digs deeper than any cut a stick or a stone may bring.
Well you can make a shitload of things out of sticks. The problem is they are only straight. Fucking sticks are only straight. Sometimes a bundle of sticks are called fags. But Fags dont like using sticks a load of the time. Sticks can be used for fire, or home building, or throwing at hookers. But sticks are fucking amazing as it is. Sticks to the power of fuck yeah!
sti
stick are made from trees and trees come from the forest. the forest is full of beautiful fairies and unicorns too. you can find the best forests in narnia. you only have to go through the wardrobe. make sure to bring some water and sunscreen. those are important things often overlooked.