The object the man stuck into my chest was silver with a point.I fell to the ground i was ice cold and i thought to my self am i dead. until i felt myself being thrown over a mans shoulder that then began to run.
What is the objection to the object of your desire? Do you fear that it may linger? What about cause a fire? While nary a man, woman nor child could point a finger, snicker or stare – they could never object.
John Komarek
The object the man stuck into me was sliver with a point on it. I laid there cold i thought to myself am i dead until i felt somebody through me over their shoulder and run .
The object in the room is very vivid. You can see it from a mile away. It is made of gold and silver, glinting in the morning light. I love this object, so does my mother. If I break it she will break me- VASE
Dominic
the objectof my desire??
no- you may not inquire
It might set you on fire
cause i’ll throw you on the pire-
i love objects, i was thinking about objects and i have to say, weed is the most best favoritest object in the whole world. seriously, its a sexy herb with many things to go about with it. i love rap.
megan
There was no object to his love for the universe. He loved it and its inhabitants unconditionally.
In the hand, or springing from the mouth of someone who disagrees. “I object, sir!” “Objection!” Sounds so harsh, so argumentative, which it is. Now, the object in the hand, completely neutral, nothing to sway either way, friend or foe.
The son of an Irish king, wearing a dead man’s armor and assorted objets d’ violence, crouched in the turret cell. Lacking sufficient charm and good looks, he’d never seduce a chambermaid. And his father never, ever paid ransom. That left brawn or skill.
The armor was about to belong to a dead man twice over.
The object was recovered from the bottom of the Indian Ocean, at a depth of over 11,000 feet. What was most surprising was that it was not wet.
tonykeyesjapan
object is the instance of the class in every programming language
i initiate object by new keyword
all objects have references can be accessed by typing dots
mr_zeroone
object is the instance of the class in every programming langiuage
i initiate object by new keyword
all objects have references can be accessed by typing dots
mr_zeroone
drown and swim, choke and drown and swim again. treading water forever. who knows who knows, just how long i can hold my breath? let me try it. let me try for days, let me pretend that nothing is above that watery surface, let me ruin my chances. things getting smaller. lights. let me move. let me let me let me
When you reach your arms around me
To whisper in my ear
I will not object.
When you pick up my arm
And weave your fingers through mine
I will not object.
When you look at me from across the room
Unapologetic and adoring
I will not object.
Your attention is what I live for.
The object was cool, smooth, and hard like it was made of stone. It sat on the table, looking harmless, looking like a paperweight. It had great potential, but only for one who knew how to harness it.
Amanda
I object! and in that moment, informed so thoroughly by Law and Order reruns, moving toward the judge at the podium with my arms raised in gesticulating protest, I objected so performatively as to leave no doubt that I was, in fact, not a lawyer.
Often I feel that I am no longer a person, but an object like a window or a book. I know that I have thoughts and feelings and a beating heart, but these things seem secondary to my stationary transparency. It often seems that I am nothing more than a piece of scenery in someone else’s life. Even if people treat me as if I am a person, I do not treat myself as one. If I fall off a shelf or begin to crack around the edges, I do not hold myself lovingly or find someone to help fix me. Instead, I keep moving in some semblance of normalcy until my bruises grow more vivid or the crack reaches the center of me and I know that at any moment, I could shatter. I get mad at myself for always cracking; I think I should be unbreakable. I want to close shop and just lie on some backroom shelf in peace. I want to hold myself and be held simultaneously by someone who will treat me as the most important and valuable thing in their possession. I want to figure out what will turn me into a real person once more.
Jennifer
Everything is an object. Whether it be an inanimate object or otherwise. Life is full of them. We are objects but object to being called objects at times. What is life?
Sandy Malhi
A thing, that can be round or sqaure or any shape, something in front of you, tangible and physical. Or it could be a complaint, an obstacle, something to overcome, something to defeat.
Sara
the object of my desire was no object after all. for years i would buy objects, things, material treasures i found at flea markets, super markets, malls and retail outlets… until i realised that what i wanted could not be bought, held, found anywhere tangible…
helena
All objects are things,
But not all things are objects,
Some things just can’t be quantified,
Like imagination or love or true intuition.
But some would say that we need objects, but do we really only need things?
An object. Just one. Can be such a simple thing. Or mean everything. So many might pass it by. To one it might stop the world from turning. What does it mean to you? Is it something to break your routine for? To take a risk for? To brave uncertainty for? Or is it just rubbish?
Emily
The object appeared in the eastern sky one morning, and since then all type of reason has been cast as to what it is and what is the cause for its appearance. What we do not want is for the people to fear because of all of the uncertainty that has occurred since that day .
The object is finite. It sits by itself, waiting for someone to pick it up. The object has feelings. The object is negligible. The object is black and white. The object is alone. The object is alive. The object is a life. The object is ignored, the object is never chosen. There are too many objects in the world.
Cheryl
The glistening droplets stained the object as Sara looked down at the ornament. Patterns filled with mysteries carved into it. History unfolded.
Thean Xiao Yen
An object can be many things. A physical object, an object of affection, and object(ive).
The world has prized objects for ages and ages. People have literally killed for objects such as the holy grail (as featured in the biographical drama Indiana Jones films).
Andy
this is the purpose of my being. it is small and large at the same time. it rejects my ideas sometimes but also contains them. it is part of my desire and also something i must lose in order to accept value.
rachel
The object of my desire was never clear. I was never made of glass, but rather polished stone, so finely made that you might think it wasn’t. In fact I never knew myself as well as he did, and I’ll never know how it was that he did. “Some things are better left unknown,” they say. Perhaps in this instance I will agree.
there are things that we cannot understand about this world, but the only thing for sure, we are here, given with enough time in order for us to decipher it.
Israel
lamp. side. dark room now, she screams. her husband has tinnitus. her son pissed himself already. she’s hiding, after that scream it seems pointless. they took nana’s picture. her boy stinks of urine in the cupboard under the sink. her husband holds his hands out, away from the shot gun. object.
An object can be anything. It can be a figment of your imagination. It could be the object of your desire. It can an object of deterrence. It could be fear. It could be love. An object is inherently meaningless is whatever meaning it has is projected by your the perceiver.
Anything that has mass is an object.
The object the man stuck into my chest was silver with a point.I fell to the ground i was ice cold and i thought to my self am i dead. until i felt myself being thrown over a mans shoulder that then began to run.
He had found the object in the lake las week,but he had no clue the things it could to .
i saw someone throw an object to a window..
i dont like to see some objects
THere was a strange object in the water:O
What is the objection to the object of your desire? Do you fear that it may linger? What about cause a fire? While nary a man, woman nor child could point a finger, snicker or stare – they could never object.
The object the man stuck into me was sliver with a point on it. I laid there cold i thought to myself am i dead until i felt somebody through me over their shoulder and run .
I saw someone throw an object that looks like a book.
The object was soft and flimsy as I held it in my arms.
I have a flying object in my back yard it looks like spaceship.
The object in the room is very vivid. You can see it from a mile away. It is made of gold and silver, glinting in the morning light. I love this object, so does my mother. If I break it she will break me- VASE
the objectof my desire??
no- you may not inquire
It might set you on fire
cause i’ll throw you on the pire-
i love objects, i was thinking about objects and i have to say, weed is the most best favoritest object in the whole world. seriously, its a sexy herb with many things to go about with it. i love rap.
There was no object to his love for the universe. He loved it and its inhabitants unconditionally.
In the hand, or springing from the mouth of someone who disagrees. “I object, sir!” “Objection!” Sounds so harsh, so argumentative, which it is. Now, the object in the hand, completely neutral, nothing to sway either way, friend or foe.
The son of an Irish king, wearing a dead man’s armor and assorted objets d’ violence, crouched in the turret cell. Lacking sufficient charm and good looks, he’d never seduce a chambermaid. And his father never, ever paid ransom. That left brawn or skill.
The armor was about to belong to a dead man twice over.
The object was recovered from the bottom of the Indian Ocean, at a depth of over 11,000 feet. What was most surprising was that it was not wet.
object is the instance of the class in every programming language
i initiate object by new keyword
all objects have references can be accessed by typing dots
object is the instance of the class in every programming langiuage
i initiate object by new keyword
all objects have references can be accessed by typing dots
drown and swim, choke and drown and swim again. treading water forever. who knows who knows, just how long i can hold my breath? let me try it. let me try for days, let me pretend that nothing is above that watery surface, let me ruin my chances. things getting smaller. lights. let me move. let me let me let me
breathe.
When you reach your arms around me
To whisper in my ear
I will not object.
When you pick up my arm
And weave your fingers through mine
I will not object.
When you look at me from across the room
Unapologetic and adoring
I will not object.
Your attention is what I live for.
The object was cool, smooth, and hard like it was made of stone. It sat on the table, looking harmless, looking like a paperweight. It had great potential, but only for one who knew how to harness it.
I object! and in that moment, informed so thoroughly by Law and Order reruns, moving toward the judge at the podium with my arms raised in gesticulating protest, I objected so performatively as to leave no doubt that I was, in fact, not a lawyer.
Often I feel that I am no longer a person, but an object like a window or a book. I know that I have thoughts and feelings and a beating heart, but these things seem secondary to my stationary transparency. It often seems that I am nothing more than a piece of scenery in someone else’s life. Even if people treat me as if I am a person, I do not treat myself as one. If I fall off a shelf or begin to crack around the edges, I do not hold myself lovingly or find someone to help fix me. Instead, I keep moving in some semblance of normalcy until my bruises grow more vivid or the crack reaches the center of me and I know that at any moment, I could shatter. I get mad at myself for always cracking; I think I should be unbreakable. I want to close shop and just lie on some backroom shelf in peace. I want to hold myself and be held simultaneously by someone who will treat me as the most important and valuable thing in their possession. I want to figure out what will turn me into a real person once more.
Everything is an object. Whether it be an inanimate object or otherwise. Life is full of them. We are objects but object to being called objects at times. What is life?
A thing, that can be round or sqaure or any shape, something in front of you, tangible and physical. Or it could be a complaint, an obstacle, something to overcome, something to defeat.
the object of my desire was no object after all. for years i would buy objects, things, material treasures i found at flea markets, super markets, malls and retail outlets… until i realised that what i wanted could not be bought, held, found anywhere tangible…
All objects are things,
But not all things are objects,
Some things just can’t be quantified,
Like imagination or love or true intuition.
But some would say that we need objects, but do we really only need things?
fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff
An object. Just one. Can be such a simple thing. Or mean everything. So many might pass it by. To one it might stop the world from turning. What does it mean to you? Is it something to break your routine for? To take a risk for? To brave uncertainty for? Or is it just rubbish?
The object appeared in the eastern sky one morning, and since then all type of reason has been cast as to what it is and what is the cause for its appearance. What we do not want is for the people to fear because of all of the uncertainty that has occurred since that day .
The object is finite. It sits by itself, waiting for someone to pick it up. The object has feelings. The object is negligible. The object is black and white. The object is alone. The object is alive. The object is a life. The object is ignored, the object is never chosen. There are too many objects in the world.
The glistening droplets stained the object as Sara looked down at the ornament. Patterns filled with mysteries carved into it. History unfolded.
An object can be many things. A physical object, an object of affection, and object(ive).
The world has prized objects for ages and ages. People have literally killed for objects such as the holy grail (as featured in the biographical drama Indiana Jones films).
this is the purpose of my being. it is small and large at the same time. it rejects my ideas sometimes but also contains them. it is part of my desire and also something i must lose in order to accept value.
The object of my desire was never clear. I was never made of glass, but rather polished stone, so finely made that you might think it wasn’t. In fact I never knew myself as well as he did, and I’ll never know how it was that he did. “Some things are better left unknown,” they say. Perhaps in this instance I will agree.
there are things that we cannot understand about this world, but the only thing for sure, we are here, given with enough time in order for us to decipher it.
lamp. side. dark room now, she screams. her husband has tinnitus. her son pissed himself already. she’s hiding, after that scream it seems pointless. they took nana’s picture. her boy stinks of urine in the cupboard under the sink. her husband holds his hands out, away from the shot gun. object.
An object can be anything. It can be a figment of your imagination. It could be the object of your desire. It can an object of deterrence. It could be fear. It could be love. An object is inherently meaningless is whatever meaning it has is projected by your the perceiver.