On either side of your head. A place to pray. A place to rest, to relax. It hurts when you touch it too hard. The Taj Majal is a temple, and so are you. A temple is like a church, but its not.
Dear Lord, Hear our prayer. Please tell them: Worship is not required; flagellation, self or otherwise, definitely overkill; suit & tie are not ecclesiastical robes; human sacrifices and offerings will not be offered; rites of passage are not rites of God; work is not a religion; the office is not a temple. Amen.
Worship is not required. Flagellation, self or otherwise, definately overkill. Suit & tie are not ecclesiastical robes. Human sacrifices and offerings will not be offered. Rites of passage are not rites of God. Work is not a religion. The office is not a temple. Make no mistake about it.
Soon the glory of our human beauty will become a distant memory washed away by the eternal burning of existence. You! Cherish this moment. It is a temple of beauty and laughter and one day it will no longer be. We live in a dream.
“I’ve been hunting you down for a long, long time, Lux,” he told me.
I felt the cold steel of the gun barrel against my temple.
I got that feeling.. of calmness. Like I’ve done my job..
In this life, at least.
I took one last deep breath before he pulled the trigger.
I rubbed my forehead.
“We’re going to the ancient temple?” I asked. I had planned to go shopping the in market and buy food. The Egyptian sun glared st me, as if asking why I didn’t want to go see it’s wonders.
despite her complete lack of religious beliefs, she had always found temples to be rather ethereal places. sunlight stunningly filtered through pearly windows of sound echoed throughout the room, filling up the dark spaces with beams of light and–terrible as it may sound–life. on sunny summer afternoons, she would visit the old tree in the garden by the back of her local buddhist temple and watch the monks sit and pray; it was calming to her, and even if she herself didn’t believe in any one of the gods, she believed in a god. her god.
a temple is a holy place for people to pray, typically of asian or european religions. temples are also the spots on the sides of your forehead, besides your eyebrow.
Sometimes I wonder about the ways of the world. Certain topics are never exhausted. In my own mind I find myself sickly traveling on the merry go round unable to stop.Bubbling up in my stomach is a mixture of anger and fatigue, and I find myself regurgitating more of the same themes. I have built a temple, and there I find peace.
it is the place where we can go to disconnect from our bodies and into the temple of our mind, reflect on the day and our physical actions as well as mental reactions. a place to breath and simply live for our god whether we recognize that it is in us or we imagine an omnipotent being
She found herself at the temple with both her feet pointed in different directions. She was faced forward but her thoughts were all backwards. How she ended up there she could never quite remember, but what happened after that gave her fodder for a lifetime of storytelling.
Hayley crouched at the stairs to the temple, raising her eyes to meet the green eyes of the Oracle idol, which smirked right back at her. She could feel Mark’s eyes on her; why had he brought her here?
“Welcome, my child,” whispered a voice. Hayley looked up at the Oracle, unbelieving. She could have sworn that the idol smiled wider.
In the temple, there is a secret.
A secret you can’t hide from me.
In the temple, there is a smile,
A sunrise,
Walk a mile to reach the bend
of the temple,
it never ends.
My body is a temple, and sometimes that temple wants cheesecake.
I forget who said that, it’s someone from ANTM I think. In any cause ,I feel that way right now, except that I don’t want cheesecake. I want chinese. I want just all kinds of delicious, but horrible food to quiet this hunger that I have that is brought on by stress. My ‘temple’ is under a lot of stress, I need some kind of delicious prayer to make it stop worrying so much, and make me stop worrying so much.
While he lay there contemplating the voice he’d just heard and trying desperately to determine whether or not it came from someone else or his own head, he felt the unmistakably coldness of a gun barrel pressed lightly against his temple.
A temple is where you worship. There is usually an altar in the temple. One of the mnemonic devices for homonyms I was studying is: The priests would be angry if someone burnt TAR on the alTAR.
if our bodies are our temples, who is the god? who is the goddess? is it us who live there, who make it a home, who sweep out all the dirt or is it you who place flowers at the altar?
my body is a temple
one that I intend to burn to the ground
here is the church
here is the steeple
lock the doors and burn all the people
no scream is loud enough
no pleading cry will convince me to do otherwise
my mind is set on a one track course
Burn
Fire
Burn
I laugh at your enticing flames
My body is a temple, Sarah whispered to herself. But with everything the doctor was saying, and how those snide, biting comments followed her around as she walked through the halls everything, she was being otherwise.
She knew deep down that she was beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. But sometimes, her own opinion didn’t count much for anything.
They told her she was cursed. They told her to visit the temple to undo what has been done to her family. She hides away on the plane, because she had no money to buy the ticket to fly over seas. She is determined to fix this mess.
I loved teaching my little girls body parts. When they were just toddlers, they were such little sponges. It was easy asking for hair, eyes, hands, legs, toes, arms, etc. But then I’d ask, “Where is your clavicle?” “Where is your throat?” “Where is your temple?”
I can feel the anger pulsing through my veins and pushing against my temples when I think about it. When I’m really angry it becomes hard to see and my whole body is tense, like I’m ready to run or to kick someone’s face in to the point of brain damage. I never really outwardly explode, but when I do, it’s atomic. I destroy everything and everyone around me. And than there’s nothing left for me but some charred memories and some friends that will never be my friends again. So I hold it in and let it simmer. It’s starting to burn in here, and I really want to touch you and let you feel the burn too. I want to burn you and watch you scream and have you beg me to stop. I want you to feel my hot anger and I want you to fear it. I want to burn you up until there’s nothing left of you, or of me. I don’t want to be angry anymore. But most of all, I want you gone.
A scared place where I keep my heart. To protect from the pain of the outside world. Safe and sound. Yet you can still ratter her up. Make her fall, and shatter everything I’ve known.
My body is a temple they say, and yet I have not worshiped it in some time. Alas it crumbles now, and too little too late I begin repairs and upkeep hoping it won’t fail me soon.
they say your body is a temple, but i’m doing the best i can
my offerings are all i have
i want to praise you
want you to rejoice in my sacrifices
but the only sacrifices i can make
are in the ones i give to you
A kiss on the temple. A brush of hands. It’s you and me stretched out on sheets. Our feet tangle and our hips bump and you’re speaking words I don’t hear into the crook of my throat. The day is warm, the bed is soft, it smells like us. I am content for once.
My body is a Temple. I been rebuilding it. Brick by brick I take it apart. One day it might come back together. But my rebuilding year isn’t here yet. I still have a while till that comes. But for now Im just enjoying taking it apart.
The power of the dog was always in him. At night, when all the others left, he would sit out and stare at the moon, a little whimper strangled in his throat. It was those years when he was lonely that were the best for writing the book. He could see that now. But the alcohol and carousing always seemed to get in the way.
there is a place and a body that is a sanctuary. there is peace and harmony there. but i suppose there are bad temples, forgotten temples, lonely temples. of course, i mustn’t forget the temple on my forehead, because it houses and begs worship of perhaps the most important temple of all, my brain and mind.
On either side of your head. A place to pray. A place to rest, to relax. It hurts when you touch it too hard. The Taj Majal is a temple, and so are you. A temple is like a church, but its not.
Dear Lord, Hear our prayer. Please tell them: Worship is not required; flagellation, self or otherwise, definitely overkill; suit & tie are not ecclesiastical robes; human sacrifices and offerings will not be offered; rites of passage are not rites of God; work is not a religion; the office is not a temple. Amen.
Worship is not required. Flagellation, self or otherwise, definately overkill. Suit & tie are not ecclesiastical robes. Human sacrifices and offerings will not be offered. Rites of passage are not rites of God. Work is not a religion. The office is not a temple. Make no mistake about it.
It was a self-made temple within my mind. All of my thoughts were stored there — reposed in a neatful manner, I let everything stay this way.
Soon the glory of our human beauty will become a distant memory washed away by the eternal burning of existence. You! Cherish this moment. It is a temple of beauty and laughter and one day it will no longer be. We live in a dream.
My hands on my temple, my ears bleeding with the sound of the screeching coming from the stereo… where did all the real musicians go?
“I’ve been hunting you down for a long, long time, Lux,” he told me.
I felt the cold steel of the gun barrel against my temple.
I got that feeling.. of calmness. Like I’ve done my job..
In this life, at least.
I took one last deep breath before he pulled the trigger.
At the temple we’ll touch temples with temptation.
One look at the temple and she knew where she was. The entire Kingdom was hers and she was very turned on, having all the power.
I rubbed my forehead.
“We’re going to the ancient temple?” I asked. I had planned to go shopping the in market and buy food. The Egyptian sun glared st me, as if asking why I didn’t want to go see it’s wonders.
despite her complete lack of religious beliefs, she had always found temples to be rather ethereal places. sunlight stunningly filtered through pearly windows of sound echoed throughout the room, filling up the dark spaces with beams of light and–terrible as it may sound–life. on sunny summer afternoons, she would visit the old tree in the garden by the back of her local buddhist temple and watch the monks sit and pray; it was calming to her, and even if she herself didn’t believe in any one of the gods, she believed in a god. her god.
a temple is a holy place for people to pray, typically of asian or european religions. temples are also the spots on the sides of your forehead, besides your eyebrow.
Sometimes I wonder about the ways of the world. Certain topics are never exhausted. In my own mind I find myself sickly traveling on the merry go round unable to stop.Bubbling up in my stomach is a mixture of anger and fatigue, and I find myself regurgitating more of the same themes. I have built a temple, and there I find peace.
it is the place where we can go to disconnect from our bodies and into the temple of our mind, reflect on the day and our physical actions as well as mental reactions. a place to breath and simply live for our god whether we recognize that it is in us or we imagine an omnipotent being
ok.
She found herself at the temple with both her feet pointed in different directions. She was faced forward but her thoughts were all backwards. How she ended up there she could never quite remember, but what happened after that gave her fodder for a lifetime of storytelling.
Hayley crouched at the stairs to the temple, raising her eyes to meet the green eyes of the Oracle idol, which smirked right back at her. She could feel Mark’s eyes on her; why had he brought her here?
“Welcome, my child,” whispered a voice. Hayley looked up at the Oracle, unbelieving. She could have sworn that the idol smiled wider.
In the temple, there is a secret.
A secret you can’t hide from me.
In the temple, there is a smile,
A sunrise,
Walk a mile to reach the bend
of the temple,
it never ends.
My temples hurt from sitting at work and dealing with annoying people. So i sit here and rub them hoping the pain will subside … ah!
My body is my temple. That is the way God intended it to be. I need to take care of my temple because I only get one.
temple. A holy place. I don’t go but some people do, and that’s fine with me. It’s their choice, not mine.
My body is a temple, and sometimes that temple wants cheesecake.
I forget who said that, it’s someone from ANTM I think. In any cause ,I feel that way right now, except that I don’t want cheesecake. I want chinese. I want just all kinds of delicious, but horrible food to quiet this hunger that I have that is brought on by stress. My ‘temple’ is under a lot of stress, I need some kind of delicious prayer to make it stop worrying so much, and make me stop worrying so much.
While he lay there contemplating the voice he’d just heard and trying desperately to determine whether or not it came from someone else or his own head, he felt the unmistakably coldness of a gun barrel pressed lightly against his temple.
A temple is where you worship. There is usually an altar in the temple. One of the mnemonic devices for homonyms I was studying is: The priests would be angry if someone burnt TAR on the alTAR.
if our bodies are our temples, who is the god? who is the goddess? is it us who live there, who make it a home, who sweep out all the dirt or is it you who place flowers at the altar?
my body is a temple
one that I intend to burn to the ground
here is the church
here is the steeple
lock the doors and burn all the people
no scream is loud enough
no pleading cry will convince me to do otherwise
my mind is set on a one track course
Burn
Fire
Burn
I laugh at your enticing flames
My body is a temple, Sarah whispered to herself. But with everything the doctor was saying, and how those snide, biting comments followed her around as she walked through the halls everything, she was being otherwise.
She knew deep down that she was beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. But sometimes, her own opinion didn’t count much for anything.
Mosques. Many people are there, worshiping to Allah, a God who I don’t know. It is strange to see people who have so much purpose in life.
They told her she was cursed. They told her to visit the temple to undo what has been done to her family. She hides away on the plane, because she had no money to buy the ticket to fly over seas. She is determined to fix this mess.
Temple
I loved teaching my little girls body parts. When they were just toddlers, they were such little sponges. It was easy asking for hair, eyes, hands, legs, toes, arms, etc. But then I’d ask, “Where is your clavicle?” “Where is your throat?” “Where is your temple?”
I can feel the anger pulsing through my veins and pushing against my temples when I think about it. When I’m really angry it becomes hard to see and my whole body is tense, like I’m ready to run or to kick someone’s face in to the point of brain damage. I never really outwardly explode, but when I do, it’s atomic. I destroy everything and everyone around me. And than there’s nothing left for me but some charred memories and some friends that will never be my friends again. So I hold it in and let it simmer. It’s starting to burn in here, and I really want to touch you and let you feel the burn too. I want to burn you and watch you scream and have you beg me to stop. I want you to feel my hot anger and I want you to fear it. I want to burn you up until there’s nothing left of you, or of me. I don’t want to be angry anymore. But most of all, I want you gone.
Payton got hit in the temple, when she got into a fight.
i live in a temple!!!!! oh who am i kidding wish :-(
A scared place where I keep my heart. To protect from the pain of the outside world. Safe and sound. Yet you can still ratter her up. Make her fall, and shatter everything I’ve known.
My body is a temple they say, and yet I have not worshiped it in some time. Alas it crumbles now, and too little too late I begin repairs and upkeep hoping it won’t fail me soon.
they say your body is a temple, but i’m doing the best i can
my offerings are all i have
i want to praise you
want you to rejoice in my sacrifices
but the only sacrifices i can make
are in the ones i give to you
A kiss on the temple. A brush of hands. It’s you and me stretched out on sheets. Our feet tangle and our hips bump and you’re speaking words I don’t hear into the crook of my throat. The day is warm, the bed is soft, it smells like us. I am content for once.
My body is a Temple. I been rebuilding it. Brick by brick I take it apart. One day it might come back together. But my rebuilding year isn’t here yet. I still have a while till that comes. But for now Im just enjoying taking it apart.
The power of the dog was always in him. At night, when all the others left, he would sit out and stare at the moon, a little whimper strangled in his throat. It was those years when he was lonely that were the best for writing the book. He could see that now. But the alcohol and carousing always seemed to get in the way.
there is a place and a body that is a sanctuary. there is peace and harmony there. but i suppose there are bad temples, forgotten temples, lonely temples. of course, i mustn’t forget the temple on my forehead, because it houses and begs worship of perhaps the most important temple of all, my brain and mind.