Skin is made in large measure of a protein called collagen.
quote by Michael Behe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
How Do You Measure Up?
If you measure yourself by ambition,
There will always be someone more ambitious than you.
If you measure yourself by money,
There is always someone wealthier than you.
If you measure yourself by power,
There is always someone more powerful than you.
If you measure yourself with material things,
There is always someone with more stuff than you.
If you measure yourself by where you are in life,
There is always someone farther down the path than you.
If you measure yourself by appearance,
There is always someone that appears than you.
If you measure yourself by God,
Then we are all the same.
We are all wonderfully and beautifully made.
God is love.
And love has no end.
So in God's heart,
You will always measure up!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Yeah, some kids called me fish lips because I had these really full lips. Now I'm sure all those same girls are getting collagen injections, so I'm having the last laugh.
quote by Denise Richards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Kingdom For A Queen
Once again we’re not prepared for the flying out brigade;
large black female ants seeking kingdoms to be made.
Being slow and laborious they lazily stumble around,
some managing to catch a breeze and leave the ground.
Many have to scale up high to launch off into flight
instinctively seeking to be queens in their own right,
but for those countless many who fail in their quest
they will become protein for the good of the rest.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Moreover the incorporation requires the same components needed for protein synthesis, and is inhibited by the same inhibitors. Thus the system is most unlikely to be a complete artefact and is very probably closely related to genuine protein synthesis.
quote by Francis Crick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boots...
the boots of modern America,
are made of black skin, Native American skin,
poor white trash skin, migrant worker skin,
unemployed skin, homeless skin,
prisoner poverty street skin....
who will they walk on next?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Skin Deep
[verse 1]
Sometimes I feel lost
In a sea of insecurity
That rages inside of me
So terribly caught
And the waves of self-rejection
Make me question my ability
(pre-chorus)
But there's a fire that always burns
And there's a voice inside
And all it wants is tobe heard
[chorus]
'Cause beyond skin deep
There's so much more to see
My hopes, my dreams designed with destiny
I was fashioned with passion
A burning desire to know the One who made me more
He made me more than skin deep
'Cause I am more, I am more than skin deep
So much more
[verse 2]
It's so hard to change
When we are captive to ourselves
Always thirsty for something else
But free or enslaved
We are sons, we are daughters
Called out by the Father's name
(pre-chorus)
So take the fire and let it burn
Unleash the voice inside
'Cause everyone needs to be heard
[chorus]
Beyond skin deep
There's so much more to see
Our hopes, our dreams designed with destiny
We were fashioned with passion
A burning desire to know the One who made us more
He made us more than skin deep
'Cause we are more, we are more than skin deep
So much more
[bridge]
We are more than the future
We are more than the past
We were made to bring glory
Given souls that will last
We are more than our bodies
We are more than the grave
We were brought by His blood
And from ourselves we've been saved
[chorus]
Beyond skin deep
There's so much more to see
Our hopes, our dreams designed with destiny
We were fashioned with passion
A burning desire to know the One who made us more
He made us more than skin deep
'Cause we are more, we are more than skin deep
So much more
We are more than the future
We are more than the past
We were made to bring glory
Given souls that will last
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every six months I fly to Dallas to get botox and I also get collagen injections.
quote by Janice Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Human beings are seventy percent water, and with some the rest is collagen.
quote by Martin Mull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Geronimo
Studio 1!
I'm here with my friend called Geronimo;
But to see eye to eye is what you demanded,
And like the new wine which is now found in the cluster.
Up to the hills of love,
I will measure your mind when we do meet;
But show me what you can do and what you deserve,
And then i will know what you are made of.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Not stranger
Not stranger
Even if you are stranger
Then prove as good manager
Capture their heart sans anger
Show love as your prime hunger
Silence is surrender
Mix with people at large and offer
You will be loved and called master
Real friend in time at the time of disaster
Love is not the only key
It is message from almighty
Shower it in plenty without feeling pity
Capture heart with it is called divine beauty
It is not fault with world
We are only blowing cold
Trying for all excuses to remain aloof
And then searching for the unnecessary proof
God has sent you alone
Not to live in isolation and feel lone
This may make you feel dejected and torn
Worthless to have come on earth and born
Someone advised me that the case is not so
The world is same and you must forgo
Life can be still made divine
As desert looms large after famine
Oh, some one told me still further
World is large and need not bother
”love is in abundance” I said and roared in laughter
This is not the reason we are seeking after
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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As I Am A Man
as i am a man
measure me not with that
divine stick
i do not wish
to be more than God
nor do i intend to be
lower than
that beast.
measure me
with the love that i can give you
the sorrows i have
the pains i have endured
the successes that i have
hidden from your eyes
measure me with the purity
of my intentions
the care with which i do my
actions
do not measure me
with your expectations
let me stand strong
on the pavement of
your cares.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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356
measure my love
i will love you without measure
there you shall fail
this love has no number
unquantifiable
your measure cannot measure
this love immeasurable
this love so
unbearable
you measure me again
this love like a flame on your oil lamp
shall then die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without Measure
measure my love
i will love you without measure
there you shall fail
this love has no number
unquantifiable
your measure cannot measure
this love immeasurable
this love so
unbearable
you measure me again
this love like a flame on your oil lamp
shall then die
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Its Not Like Him
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
When tom came home his hair was combed
He bought snakeskin boots in rome
Thats not like him
His socks are clean, his shirt is pressed
It isnt just the way hes dressed
He smiles out of context and acts so polite
Hes staying at his cousins overnight
The protein shakes, thats not like him
The carrot cakes, thats not like him
The oatbran flakes, thats not like him
And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night
Oh, thats not like him
He whispers on the telephone
He goes out smelling of cologne
Thats not like him
Its just a superficial thing
But hes misplaced his wedding ring
Hes become quite a connoisseur of wine
Hes quoting yeats and gertrude stein
The soho pub, thats not like him
The racquet club, thats not like him
Those books on love, thats not like him
And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night
Oh, thats not like him
I caught a glimpse of tom today
At a checkout counter, about to pay
He had a girl on his arm
Im glad hes helping out the poor
Its not like the tom I knew before
Something so touching it made me cry
But my heart was racing, I dont know why
Those new blue suede shoes, thats not like him
The ray ban shades, thats not like him
Those downtown ways, thats not like him
And the sweet name he called me in his sleep last night
Oh, thats not like him
The red suspenders, thats not like him
The berries in the blender, thats not like him
Those twelve step groups, thats not like him
And guadeloupe, thats not like him
Those books on zen, thats not like him
The karate classes, thats not like him
The fishing gear, thats not like him
Not like him, thats not like him
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can Remember
I can remember when I was six
my father would play so many tricks.
and I would fall for them all.
He'd pull coins from my ear.
He'd measure my height on a wall
and say to me,
'My you're getting tall.'
I can remember when I was seven.
he made up stories all about heaven.
He told me that there was no hell.
Then he'd kiss me. I remember his smell.
He called it 'Old Spice.'
I called it nice.
I'd watch him shave the foam from his face.
I can remember it all.
I can remember when I was ten.
My father always knew just when
to make me laugh if I was sad.
I also remember when he got mad.
He'd slam the door and pace the floor
and when his temper would settle down,
he was back to being my dad.
A special remembrance of my father on this Father's Day. I miss you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The hot hot sun
The hot hot sun
bakes
my skin skin skin
irksome infants
make
a din din din
could get under
my skin skin skin.
No
take a breath
a deep belly breath
let your diaphragm do the work
vorsprung durch inhallation
the oxygen bubbles into my blood
the heat touches my
bones
my mind absorbs those mutual benefits
slows, calms, immersed a gentle euphoria
and the warmth of the breeze embraces
I feel the joy joy joy
of the sun sun sun
on my skin skin skin
on this hot hot day!
poem by Robin Pratt
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Rikki-Tikki-Tavi
At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
"Nag, come up and dance with death! "
Eye to eye and head to head,
(Keep the measure, Nag.)
This shall end when one is dead;
(At thy pleasure, Nag.)
Turn for turn and twist for twist--
(Run and hide thee, Nag.)
Hah! The hooded Death has missed!
( Woe betide thee, Nag!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Beneath The Skin
Beneath the Skin a caustic red river
Beneath the Skin corrosive abuser
Beneath the Skin genetic in rupture
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin a still born forgiveness
Beneath the Skin cell transfer in whispers
Beneath the Skin a lover cries murder
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
Beneath the Skin i wasted this moment
Beneath the Skin old undiscovered
Beneath the Skin another lies ruptured
Beneath the Skin all cold and hungered
song performed by by Queen Adreena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Measure Of Men
what is the measure of one man
is it the measure of one's strength
I think not
is it the measure of one's stature such as height
I don't think so
is it how wealthy one is
not even close
or is it how much power one possesses over another
not impressive
can a measure of a man be measured with a yardstick
well it can but that park doesn't show he's a man
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting him
can be measured with a ruler
the tolerance of a man for another man attacking his country
can be measured with a grain of salt
the tolerance of a man for another man hitting the one's he loves
now that can only be measured within a whisper
you can only measure a individual man or woman
with how big their heart is and
what qualities lie within that heart
such as dignity for what he works for
such as a stable household for his famly
compassion for people in need
the understanding of what's right and what's wrong
the pride of not what he has done but what
his wife and child has done
the sweat
the blood
and the tears he spars
to keep his marriage from falling apart
once you find a way to measure those things then
and only then will you be able to say
that is
because that is certainly
the real measure of all men
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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5. Memories of Good Grub
I remember in the fifties we had dripping on our bread
Sprinkled well with salt for extra taste
I remember black pork jelly from the bottom of the dish
Was a relish to be savoured not to waste?
I remember fetching winkles always sold to us in pints
That took ages to get out with just a pin
I remember all the winkle shell looked like a load of snails
And the juicy ones that dribbled down your chin
I remember lumpy porridge milk and sugar on the top
Setting hard enough to cut yourself a slice
I remember having nightmares after having two large bowls
To describe it one would never call it nice
I remember red polony in its plastic sort of skin
Tried and tried our best but couldn’t make it spread
I remember trays of faggots from the butchers for our tea
Though some folks called them savoury ducks instead
I remember being told that I’d remember
The good things as well as the bad
I remember those large Yorkshire puddings
Where the best thing that we’d ever had
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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