Windows Me

made by the Windows has not gone unnoticed and thanks to Abbot Suger for his love of stained glass we can continue to rejoice in his vision. Suger noted in his own words, “Thus, when --out of my delight in the beauty of the house of God-- the loveliness of the many-colored gems has called me away from external cares, and worthy meditation has induced me to reflect, transferring that which is material to that which is immaterial, on the diversity of the sacred virtues: then it seems to me that I see

bag for Raelynn's house,”my mother said as she grabbed her purse. “yes I know. Bye!” I said once more. I heard the two bright headlights turn on and the old rickety car engine start. As i bounced on the couch and watched them leave from the front window I had the house to myself. Of course as a teenager I was gonna invite a friend over so I invited my best friend. She came over around nine thirty. We sat around the fireplace and watched some cartoons as we munched on salty popcorn. The both of us

over. Believe me, I never will know how so many people can fit in our small house, especially when 90% are under ten. “The house will probably be knocked over by tomorrow,” I thought glumly as I stared out the window at the rain, trying to drown out the noise in the background. I mean seriously, a stampede of elephants, all roaring while stomping on trash can lids would make less noise. Suddenly I saw a middle-aged woman dressed in black out in the woods. She seemed to be beckoning to me so I did the

welcomed me back. I had been sick and I had to miss about a week of work. Today was my first day back. When I reached my office it felt pretty good to finally be back. I had been working on my computer for around three in a half hours before I heard people in the hall outside of my office . I went to go make sure everything was ok. When I walked out of my office, there was a big clump of people at the window talking about something they could see in the distance out of the window. I decided

retirement home, many thoughts began to swirl in my mind. I started thinking of the years that have flowed by me like a bullet slicing through the wind. All the years of fun, enjoyment, sadness and grief. All the moments of desire and hope I can still feel until this day. My experiences in life through the years have helped me to view the world today; in a new perspective. Some part of me wishes right now that I was raised up in this era, for the people are much more open-minded and open to the unknown

somewhere. All of the action of the people are described in passive voice, instead of active voice. This at first give me a little wondering whether the author meant to do that, to put the human somehow become weaker and inferior than the moths. The author and his group had to sit inside, while the moths were freely flying outside. Also, the word phrase "seated at the table" reminds me a lot of school and workplace, where people are assigned a desk or table and do what others told. As I read through

and rip off pieces my sister did as well... And so did I. rip... Rip one piece after another until the dress was nothing but shreds of fabric. once we left Cinderella was in tears I felt terrible, but I knew if I didn't follow along mother would scold me after. I was sitting on my bed Staring at the wooden clock hanging above my dresser just waiting for time to pass so that I could get out of the house to try to get my mind off of what had happened. I just wish there was something I could do but nothing

nothing. A sigh of relief comes out of me as I force my eyes to adjust to the darkness in my room focusing on my bedroom window trying to remember if I locked it. My first night living in a new neighborhood was going fantastic! I have never been so scared in my life. My family and I had lived in trailer homes before, but not one with this type of neighborhood. I remember my grandmother would warn me about the house being broken into several times before which gave me caution before she accepted us into

Sunlight was just barely sneaking through the bamboo blinds of my light pink room, leaving my bed in a shadow of deep purple as if it was afraid to pull me from my dreaming too soon. The room was still chilly and the floorboards a frigid slate of ice as I pulled on the slipper-socks that my mother had set beside my bed, and sleepily padded over to the window. With a soft yawn and a stretch, I slowly tugged on the fraying, yellowed string controlling the shades, fiddling with it slightly as I pulled with

violent activity. Savage syrup and Peter pancake were the best of friends, they did everything together. This made Kip jealous, but he didn’t tell them he just gave hints. The next day at work was even worse. “ You now what Peter!”, “ You don’t even want me here do you?”, “No, I don’t” said Peter. The argueing went on and on, like two dogs fighting over a bone. The result wasn’t too pleasant. Savage syrup tried breaking up the mess , but it was no use. Savage laid his head on his desk, and suddenly the