Never ending, too normal. I would hate to have this word consuming every dimension of my mind, not letting me learn, grow, love, hate, change, let go, nothing. I would hate to have this word consuming my life. It’s not real, because the only pattern in life…is that there isn’t one.
the patterns in the sky, remind me of the patterns in your eyes. I see so many things, for us–for me. Kaleidoscopes. The patterns in your eyes may be deceiving.
Don’t let me down.
melissa
Design is what makes things beautiful and most designs becone patterns. Lines, shapes, objects, abythig can be a pattern if you think about it. We form patterns in our lives, doing the same thing over and over again. These in turn brcome habits. Some being bad and some being goood.
Katie nagi
Design, fashion, sequence, repetition, organized, pattern of events.
The paisley-patterned curtains were swept back to let in the sunshine, which dappled on the rising dust that lingered in the air. I sank down into the couch and swallowed in my surroundings. I missed being here. I missed it so much it hurt my chest.
ace
designs. decorations. .shapes. .squares. circles. triangles. something reoccurring. walls. .cars. .cycles. I have a pattern on my face and it makes me beautiful. I am glad that I have it even though I didn’t at first.
Chrycka Harper
In the sky, the stars form the shapes of animals and mystical patterns. “I don’t understand how they got that way”, said Suzanna, “and I don’t care.”
We don’t live in a pattern, we assign them. They don’t exist for our discovery, but are seen as we relate to them. A pattern in nature, through scientific discovery, is temporary and never eternal. We assigned the term pattern on shifting canvases.
Never ending, too normal. I would hate to have this horrible word consuming my life, not being able to dare, to let go, to change, to love, nothing. I would hate to have to stay with a pattern, consuming my mind, caging me in, not letting me learn the REAL pattern of life…which is that there is none.
Meara Maccabee
The sun glares in her eyes, but she doesn’t have the usual look of annoyance on her face. Someone says she looks unsure, and it’s the perfect description. She’s uncertain of the boy that she keeps at a safe distance. He laughs at her jokes, and I can see the emotions bleed through her face. She’s full of surprise and a longing for someone that was so close, and yet she never really knew. People change, and so does time. She doesn’t live a patterned life; friends filter in and out, and she tries to keep up the best she can.
The patterns that came out of her hair were the only thing i could really fixate on How the slight curls were so perfect in the way that they all seemed to be an exact copy of the one next. I couldnt possibly think of a better scenario for a young man to just observe. The hair, the face, the smile. all of it just seemed to transcend any sort of prior judgement of the term ‘beauty;.
Adam
there are patterns everywhere, crawling up the seams of my clothing and burning out over windowsills and pits of peaches long eaten. how many this that here there over and over agin can you follow before your eyes drop the the earth.
e
Patterns patterns- repeating and peating and repeating and on and on forever and there are patterns within patterns and all kinds of different patterns, on and on and on forever and ever, repeating and peating, patterns patterns…
if all of this is a pattern, are we just shapes, will we ever find meaning, or find that other shape that fits just right, Everything is a pattern until you learn from life, take it and say I wont repeat that mistake again, I’m making a new path for myself.
Kevin
there is often a pattern in nature. For example, look at a leaf and you will see the lines on one side equal to the lines on the other side. Look at an animal and you will see the patterns of skin, eyes, ears and all other patterns.
Jane Orme
the stripes crisscrossed on the back of her shirt, accentuating the waist.
Todd
patterns, one after another and another. line after line. nothing special but at the same time so very very special because through all the chaos and craziness there still could be some symmetry and similarities. its weird and strange how that happens but it does and that all you can do to understand it.
Jol
Polka dots. Typical old man bowtie. Except this man is no typical old man. This man lived through WWII; he has seen the good and the bad in our world, the worst of the worst. And yet, he has hope. He has hope for people and for this generation, the generation everyone says is beyond repair. This old man has hope for the hopeless generation.
We are not as hopeless as you think.
Bria
i have this one crochet pattern that I’ve been working on for almost six months. The original project was only supposed to last about a month, but every time I sit down to it, something else comes up. If only I could spend as much time on it as answering the door.
an
clothes. walls. eyes. hearts. blankets. skys. God and man create patterns. They are alive in all of us.
Victoria
Something I see in everything, but try to avoid. A pattern of life. A daily routine. The same thing, day in and day out. A dull life, and yet the universe seems so full and orchestrated to be full of patterns.
Their fingers entwine into a familiar pattern, but their minds, their hearts, and their eyes are scattered. Their lips come together like mismatched crochet sticks, and the result is an ugly, unruly substance.
the pattern in the sky was troubled. The circle of clouds. Gust of smoke. Fire engulfed the city as we surrounding it, took in the effefcts the effects.
renee
clothing. I have a hard time shopping for patters. Not sure why. I’m not a huge person. A size 9, and I look good! lol. anyway, patters really distort body shape. Its confusing. Also that reminds me of an LSD experiment from the 50’s that I saw on youtube.
Hannah
With most things in life, there is a pattern. But some things can’t be explained by pattern. Try to find a pattern in the grass on the ground, strewn everywhere, or the random rushing of water in a stream. With a lot of the best things in life, there is no pattern.
Macy
when things interlock this way I feel safe. confined by something, but yet, these confines give me the safety I need to expand. to reach beyond. how much more.
g
the pattern of the trees was a geometric shape that flowed throughout the earth. the roots connected into an organic flowing style that mimicked the leaves and branches above. they dug deep into the ground, reaching the ultimate hell and highest heaven, and the inifite airways of all the universe
The pattern is swirling. I wonder what it means. Everything has a pattern. Nature is beautiful that way. Exquisite. Even what seems to be random has an order to it. I have to take that idea with my life.
Becky
I wake up with a criss-crossing pattern on my face from the rough pillow I passed out on. The music is pounding downstairs. I rub my cheek, willing the lines to go away, worrying about catching up, there’s no way I’ll get drunk enough.
I reach over to grab the last of my watered-down blue raspberry vodka, sipping at the lukewarm fire as I go to the bathroom mirror and attempt to be presentable.
the pattern in her skirt flowed softly in the wind. she looked up as the hair in her face swept across her eyes. she used her long, ringed fingers to pull away the soft yellow hay as her eyes started to water from the wind. they swelled up like the ocean but the liquid disappeared with a few flutters. the pattern on her skirt remained.
emma kinney
pa a a a a at at at at att att att att tte tte tte tte aptpeprpaptpeprpaptpeprpantnenrnantnenrnantnenrn aeaeaeaettr aeaeaeaettr parretn
oh wow
I remember the pattern of sunlight and dark shadow on the plazza rink as we sat there that day; the contrast of the bright and the dark echoed your words, remembering our joys, foreseeing our next good bye.
Fran
The patterns in the walls distracted me, even now that I was in the room. The ones in the waiting room were much more exciting, with their electric colors, meant to entertain a child. These, in the office of the doctor I had come to know so well, were bland, but still they kept my mind at work, recounting every time. Though I knew I was never wrong, sixty three, no more no less. It was certainly one thing in my life that would never change- my counting the pattern on the wall, sixty three, once again.
Rhymin’ and rippin; Flowing and slowing… focus finds fertile ground… there’s a way down. There’s always a pattern, a rhythm, a rhyme. Consistently here and now.
It was a pattern. He knew it. He could feel it. This guy didn’t do something without a purpose and his purpose was this pattern. Though James couldn’t see it, the pictures spread out all before him. He just felt it.
i like to sew in a pattern. well actually i wish i could sew. or follow a pattern. but in my job i kinda follow a pattern. wish i had more artisitc ability though.
shannon
they are everywhere – the seasons, the phases of the moon, the patterns of the day all appear to show us a truth. The truth about the light – the uncreated light. How else could one Who lives in unapproachable light reveal Himself except through the patterns of the created light of everyday life.
rick
patterns are everywhere. we can find them in the patchwork of our clothing and even in the way people act each day. we rely on patterns because its illusion of consistency is something that we attempt to hold on to.
The pattern on her dress was just like the one I’d seen on my grandmothers. Dolphins. She loved dolphins. Every time I saw it it made me think of the sea air, the sand sticking to my feet and legs and my grandmother. I was younger then, young and naive and it was wondering.
Chan
A lady bug’s shell, red and glistening, covered in black dots. A simple pattern, but unique to it in itself. This shows one does not have to always try to reach for the stars to be unique; but sometimes simplicity is the most memorable and effective thing of all.
Never ending, too normal. I would hate to have this word consuming every dimension of my mind, not letting me learn, grow, love, hate, change, let go, nothing. I would hate to have this word consuming my life. It’s not real, because the only pattern in life…is that there isn’t one.
the patterns in the sky, remind me of the patterns in your eyes. I see so many things, for us–for me. Kaleidoscopes. The patterns in your eyes may be deceiving.
Don’t let me down.
Design is what makes things beautiful and most designs becone patterns. Lines, shapes, objects, abythig can be a pattern if you think about it. We form patterns in our lives, doing the same thing over and over again. These in turn brcome habits. Some being bad and some being goood.
Design, fashion, sequence, repetition, organized, pattern of events.
The paisley-patterned curtains were swept back to let in the sunshine, which dappled on the rising dust that lingered in the air. I sank down into the couch and swallowed in my surroundings. I missed being here. I missed it so much it hurt my chest.
designs. decorations. .shapes. .squares. circles. triangles. something reoccurring. walls. .cars. .cycles. I have a pattern on my face and it makes me beautiful. I am glad that I have it even though I didn’t at first.
In the sky, the stars form the shapes of animals and mystical patterns. “I don’t understand how they got that way”, said Suzanna, “and I don’t care.”
We don’t live in a pattern, we assign them. They don’t exist for our discovery, but are seen as we relate to them. A pattern in nature, through scientific discovery, is temporary and never eternal. We assigned the term pattern on shifting canvases.
Never ending, too normal. I would hate to have this horrible word consuming my life, not being able to dare, to let go, to change, to love, nothing. I would hate to have to stay with a pattern, consuming my mind, caging me in, not letting me learn the REAL pattern of life…which is that there is none.
The sun glares in her eyes, but she doesn’t have the usual look of annoyance on her face. Someone says she looks unsure, and it’s the perfect description. She’s uncertain of the boy that she keeps at a safe distance. He laughs at her jokes, and I can see the emotions bleed through her face. She’s full of surprise and a longing for someone that was so close, and yet she never really knew. People change, and so does time. She doesn’t live a patterned life; friends filter in and out, and she tries to keep up the best she can.
The patterns that came out of her hair were the only thing i could really fixate on How the slight curls were so perfect in the way that they all seemed to be an exact copy of the one next. I couldnt possibly think of a better scenario for a young man to just observe. The hair, the face, the smile. all of it just seemed to transcend any sort of prior judgement of the term ‘beauty;.
there are patterns everywhere, crawling up the seams of my clothing and burning out over windowsills and pits of peaches long eaten. how many this that here there over and over agin can you follow before your eyes drop the the earth.
Patterns patterns- repeating and peating and repeating and on and on forever and there are patterns within patterns and all kinds of different patterns, on and on and on forever and ever, repeating and peating, patterns patterns…
if all of this is a pattern, are we just shapes, will we ever find meaning, or find that other shape that fits just right, Everything is a pattern until you learn from life, take it and say I wont repeat that mistake again, I’m making a new path for myself.
there is often a pattern in nature. For example, look at a leaf and you will see the lines on one side equal to the lines on the other side. Look at an animal and you will see the patterns of skin, eyes, ears and all other patterns.
the stripes crisscrossed on the back of her shirt, accentuating the waist.
patterns, one after another and another. line after line. nothing special but at the same time so very very special because through all the chaos and craziness there still could be some symmetry and similarities. its weird and strange how that happens but it does and that all you can do to understand it.
Polka dots. Typical old man bowtie. Except this man is no typical old man. This man lived through WWII; he has seen the good and the bad in our world, the worst of the worst. And yet, he has hope. He has hope for people and for this generation, the generation everyone says is beyond repair. This old man has hope for the hopeless generation.
We are not as hopeless as you think.
i have this one crochet pattern that I’ve been working on for almost six months. The original project was only supposed to last about a month, but every time I sit down to it, something else comes up. If only I could spend as much time on it as answering the door.
clothes. walls. eyes. hearts. blankets. skys. God and man create patterns. They are alive in all of us.
Something I see in everything, but try to avoid. A pattern of life. A daily routine. The same thing, day in and day out. A dull life, and yet the universe seems so full and orchestrated to be full of patterns.
Their fingers entwine into a familiar pattern, but their minds, their hearts, and their eyes are scattered. Their lips come together like mismatched crochet sticks, and the result is an ugly, unruly substance.
the pattern in the sky was troubled. The circle of clouds. Gust of smoke. Fire engulfed the city as we surrounding it, took in the effefcts the effects.
clothing. I have a hard time shopping for patters. Not sure why. I’m not a huge person. A size 9, and I look good! lol. anyway, patters really distort body shape. Its confusing. Also that reminds me of an LSD experiment from the 50’s that I saw on youtube.
With most things in life, there is a pattern. But some things can’t be explained by pattern. Try to find a pattern in the grass on the ground, strewn everywhere, or the random rushing of water in a stream. With a lot of the best things in life, there is no pattern.
when things interlock this way I feel safe. confined by something, but yet, these confines give me the safety I need to expand. to reach beyond. how much more.
the pattern of the trees was a geometric shape that flowed throughout the earth. the roots connected into an organic flowing style that mimicked the leaves and branches above. they dug deep into the ground, reaching the ultimate hell and highest heaven, and the inifite airways of all the universe
The pattern is swirling. I wonder what it means. Everything has a pattern. Nature is beautiful that way. Exquisite. Even what seems to be random has an order to it. I have to take that idea with my life.
I wake up with a criss-crossing pattern on my face from the rough pillow I passed out on. The music is pounding downstairs. I rub my cheek, willing the lines to go away, worrying about catching up, there’s no way I’ll get drunk enough.
I reach over to grab the last of my watered-down blue raspberry vodka, sipping at the lukewarm fire as I go to the bathroom mirror and attempt to be presentable.
the pattern in her skirt flowed softly in the wind. she looked up as the hair in her face swept across her eyes. she used her long, ringed fingers to pull away the soft yellow hay as her eyes started to water from the wind. they swelled up like the ocean but the liquid disappeared with a few flutters. the pattern on her skirt remained.
pa a a a a at at at at att att att att tte tte tte tte aptpeprpaptpeprpaptpeprpantnenrnantnenrnantnenrn aeaeaeaettr aeaeaeaettr parretn
I remember the pattern of sunlight and dark shadow on the plazza rink as we sat there that day; the contrast of the bright and the dark echoed your words, remembering our joys, foreseeing our next good bye.
The patterns in the walls distracted me, even now that I was in the room. The ones in the waiting room were much more exciting, with their electric colors, meant to entertain a child. These, in the office of the doctor I had come to know so well, were bland, but still they kept my mind at work, recounting every time. Though I knew I was never wrong, sixty three, no more no less. It was certainly one thing in my life that would never change- my counting the pattern on the wall, sixty three, once again.
Rhymin’ and rippin; Flowing and slowing… focus finds fertile ground… there’s a way down. There’s always a pattern, a rhythm, a rhyme. Consistently here and now.
It was a pattern. He knew it. He could feel it. This guy didn’t do something without a purpose and his purpose was this pattern. Though James couldn’t see it, the pictures spread out all before him. He just felt it.
i like to sew in a pattern. well actually i wish i could sew. or follow a pattern. but in my job i kinda follow a pattern. wish i had more artisitc ability though.
they are everywhere – the seasons, the phases of the moon, the patterns of the day all appear to show us a truth. The truth about the light – the uncreated light. How else could one Who lives in unapproachable light reveal Himself except through the patterns of the created light of everyday life.
patterns are everywhere. we can find them in the patchwork of our clothing and even in the way people act each day. we rely on patterns because its illusion of consistency is something that we attempt to hold on to.
The pattern on her dress was just like the one I’d seen on my grandmothers. Dolphins. She loved dolphins. Every time I saw it it made me think of the sea air, the sand sticking to my feet and legs and my grandmother. I was younger then, young and naive and it was wondering.
A lady bug’s shell, red and glistening, covered in black dots. A simple pattern, but unique to it in itself. This shows one does not have to always try to reach for the stars to be unique; but sometimes simplicity is the most memorable and effective thing of all.