Uploading Picture Quotes

."Please tell me you didn't take a picture." "I didn't take a picture," he confirmed. I exhaled. "I recorded it and just uploaded to Youtube.".

You're so mean,' I said. 'You're like one of those people who upload pictures of themselves where they look really hot and the other person looks like shit.

What’s Katherin done? Has she uploaded a picture of her vagina on Twitter, as she threatens to do literally every time I ask her to do another interview at Martin’s request?

...It’s hardly surprising America’s children, most having been well groomed in sexual immorality over 40 years, have ended up on MySpace or Facebook uploading sexy pictures of ourselves. Where else can a hyper sexualized kid get so much attention?

There is a thin line between capturing memories & capturing pictures. That thin line is not uploading them on every social networking sites.

Once Xenocrates was gone, Goddard called out to the crowd, “Anyone who uploads pictures of High Blade Xenocrates in his underwear will be gleaned immediately!” And everyone laughed… then stopped when they realized he was not joking in the least.

Once Xenocrates was gone, Goddard called out to the crowd, “Anyone who uploads pictures of High Blade Xenocrates in his underwear will be gleaned immediately!” And everyone laughed . . . then stopped when they realized he was not joking in the least.

I’m still addicted to the sensation I get watching a post go crazy with comments and likes on Instagram. Casually snapping a picture and uploading it for 28 million people provides a pretty serious high. There’s a thrill in knowing that folks all over the world might be talking about what I posted. It’s quite a rush to create a tidal wave like that whenever I want.

even as he knew what kind of parent he’d become, the kind that used to make him gag as recently as two months ago. The ones who blithely assumed their online friends were gluttons for punishment. Here’s my baby lying on his back! And here’s my baby also lying on his back! And how about this one: blurry baby on his back! Good God, the vanity of it all, the epic self-centeredness. He knew all this, and still he uploaded eleven pictures of Brian.

Humanism thought that experiences occur inside us, and that we ought to find within ourselves the meaning of all that happens, thereby infusing the universe with meaning. Dataists believe that experiences are valueless if they are not shared, and that we need not – indeed cannot – find meaning within ourselves. We need only record and connect our experience to the great data flow, and the algorithms will discover its meaning and tell us what to do. Twenty years ago Japanese tourists were a universal laughing stock because they always carried cameras and took pictures of everything in sight. Now everyone is doing it. If you go to India and see an elephant, you don’t look at the elephant and ask yourself, ‘What do I feel?’ – you are too busy looking for your smartphone, taking a picture of the elephant, posting it on Facebook and then checking your account every two minutes to see how many Likes you got. Writing a private diary – a common humanist practice in previous generations – sounds to many present-day youngsters utterly pointless. Why write anything if nobody else can read it? The new motto says: ‘If you experience something – record it. If you record something – upload it. If you upload something – share it.

Researchers have e-mailed text files across the Internet, uploaded them to DNA replicators, and then dropped the DNA copy into “blank” cells, which have then started up and become identical versions of the original organism. It still blows my mind that you can e-mail life like you can cat pictures. Any day now we’ll read about some researchers actually e-mailing the cat across the Internet.

Pehle log 'yaad' keliye photo khichaaya karte the.. Aaj kal FB pe upload karne ke liye 'yaad se' kheechate hai ;)

He hangs out near campuses at lunch, after classes, his skateboard rat-a-tat-tatting across sidewalk cracks just barely past school-ground limits. The girls cluster and giggle, and he chooses one to peel off the herd. He tells her to snap pictures. He tells her to get a secret Facebook account, one her parents don’t know about, and upload them there. He tells her that everyone does this in high school, and he’s mostly right, but not everyone is hooked into a scheme like this. He targets Title I schools, broke girls, easily impressed, looking for a dream, a romance, a way out. Girls whose parents lack the resources to do much if they disappear. The secret Facebook page links go to Hector Contrell. The genius of it is, the girls create the sales catalog themselves.

After seeing him take more than 100 selfies in just a few days, I realised Turnbull’s selfie technique was slick. There was a routine developing. He cradled the phone in his right hand. Held it out at full arm’s length. Made sure everyone was in the shot, then slightly tilted his arm so the camera was above eye level. It was optimum selfie technique, taking advantage of the high angle which slimmed the faces of those involved. He’d take 2–4 very distinct shots, so people could choose from a menu of options which one would be uploaded to Facebook as a new profile picture. Often he’d spin around before even opening the camera, aware of where the light was and how it would impact on the selfie. He was more comfortable with iPhones over Androids, sometimes stumbling over finding the camera on the phone’s screen. It might seem facile (and it was) but the selfie was often the only genuine interaction the Prime Minister had with voters.

For frictionless publishing, I write the book, finish the chapters and then post it on Kindle with minimal or no editing immediately for 99 cents. At this stage, the book is definitely worth at least 99 cents so I know that anyone who reads it will get a lot of value out of it and will not be disappointed in their investment. But, I don’t aim to publish and sell 99-cent books. I believe my books are much more valuable. So as soon as I know the book is live on Kindle, I work my butt off to make sure to edit out all the typos, add in any graphics or pictures I need, check the formatting, rewrite any sections that are unclear, add in bonus info and content for my readers and voila! What used to take me 2-3 months to edit and complete now takes 2-3 days, sometimes less. Once I’m confident that the book is finished and I’ve uploaded the final copy on Kindle (unless I find more typos or decide to add more later which I can do anytime thanks to the ease of Ebook publishing), I raise the book’s price to my ideal selling price.

I Am a Tinder Guy Holding a Fish and I Will Provide for You Photo No. 1 Behold my mackerel. I have caught it for you and it is for you to eat. Love me, for I shall fill your dinner table with many fish such as this one in the days to come. During our time together, you will never go hungry or fear famine. You will never want for trout, salmon, or otherwise. I will sustain you with my love and with my fish. Photo No. 2 As you may have suspected, my talents do not end at fishing. I excel in many areas. Working out, for instance. In this picture I display for you my abdomen. Abdomens are important for fishing excursions and mirror selfies, such as this one. I flex for you. What do you think? Photo No. 3 To get a better idea of me, here is a closeup selfie of my face with a high-contrast filter. In it, I make an expression like that young boy star Justin Bieber, but, rest assured, I am a man. I crease my forehead and raise my eyebrows, like a man. In my gaze, you can see the soul of a man. My mouth is as straight as the line I will walk for you. Peer into the depths of my heart, a small ocean of the meatiest haddock. Photo No. 4 Feast your eyes upon my Mitsubishi. In it, we will traverse the continent running your errands. Tell me about an appointment and I will offer you a ride faster than anyone has ever offered before. This and many other adventures await us. Name an ocean and I will drive to it and fish for you there. The farthest reaches of the shoreline are within our grasp. Photo No. 5 Worry not about the woman with the face scribbled out in this picture of me in formal wear. She is no one. Cast your eyes upon me as I might cast a fishing line into a bountiful river. Look unto my face, for it is chiseled. This is the face of a man who would never scribble out your face and upload the picture onto a dating app. This is the face of a man with an abdomen rock-hard and fishing rods numerous. Photo No. 6 Now I am spreading my arms wide in front of a landscape. Behold my mountain, my sky, my clouds, my wingspan. These are the arms with which I will hold you during long, dark nights. I will claim you as I have claimed this landscape, as I have claimed myriad salmon. I will fight for you as I have fought for the right to so many weight machines already in use by someone else at the Y.M.C.A. My arms ache for you, and I have nothing left but to stretch them out and fly home to your heart. For mine are the wings of an albatross that shall descend upon the water’s surface, pluck out the ripest flounder, and place it at your feet as a small offering of my love, if you swipe right.

I’m going to have to talk to HR sooner rather than later about arranging for my maternity leave anyway. And people are going to find out in time. I unlock my phone and open Instagram. I have an oddly high number of followers thanks to an article Forbes did on me right after I sold the app to Apple. I’m not that interesting of a person, but I do find the best funny memes to share. I upload my favorite picture of Archer and me from this weekend, heart fluttering when I look at it. We’re standing by the pink balloons, and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. My hair is tucked awkwardly behind my ear, but we both look so happy. So inlove. Archer’s hand is on my stomach, and his smile is genuine. Man, I miss him. Tomorrow is too far away. Long distance sucks. “We cannot wait for spring. Hashtag thirteen weeks. Hashtag baby girl,” I say out loud as Itype. “Don’t forget hashtag blessed.” “And grateful. Please. I might be basic, but I know enough not to flaunt it around on social media,” I laugh and post the photo. But I really do feel those things.

You’ve been uploading photos on social media for long, but CoSign lets you turn them into cash. Just tag images you upload to social media with information about the products pictured in them.

And these deep players learned the most extraordinary things. They started to drive cars. Without being told a single thing about cats except whether a given picture showed one, they learned how to recognize any cat from any angle under any conditions. They figured out how to translate text from one language to another with uncanny fluency, without being taught a single rule of grammar or usage. They learned these things the way a child would, by weighing the evidence and adjusting the strengths of the connections in their networks of neurons until their brains began to generalize solutions. I SET DEEP LEARNING loose on Playground’s trove of user data. Every sentence a person wrote, every picture a person uploaded, every post a person voted for taught the deep learners