Quotes About Fragments

An earnest purpose finds time, or makes it. It seizes on spare moments, and turns fragments to golden account.

History never repeats itself, but the Kaleidoscopic combinations of the pictured presente often seem to be constructed out of the broken fragments of antique legends.

Why, the whole front of that host shot into the sky with a thundercrash, and became a whirling tempest of rags and fragments; and along the ground lay a thick wall of smoke that hid what was left of the multitude from our sight.

There are pieces of me on the ground.

She enjoyed the small fragments of pain.

You could see how hard he loved her. His heart was so obliterated, but he found the will to work it. He was tired, so tired, in the porch light. Just bits-and-pieces of a man.

charcoal. What was left of the

Si un cometa chocara contra este montón de polvo nuestro y lo convirtiera en mil millones de fragmentos que salieran disparados hacia el espacio, si su ardiente aliento lamiera cada forma de vida como una polilla se marchita con una vela, todavía, al final de mil millones de años, la más diminuta partícula de nuestros cuerpos seguiría existiendo.

The Eureka act proper, the moment of truth experienced by the creative individual, is paralleled on the collective plane by the emergence, out of the scattered fragments, of a new synthesis, brought about by a quick succession of individual discoveries-where, characteristically, the same discovery is often made by several individuals at the same time.

Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.

Her ashes. The grit from her bones. The teeth from her smile. The whole of her crammed into a little clay pot. Receipt No. Q 498673.

It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain

Somewhere the moon has fallen through a window and broken into thirty pieces of silver.

The walls are cracked and water runs upon them within threads without sound, black and glistening as blood.

I see a poem as a multi-coloured strip behind peeling plaster, in separate, shining fragments.

The Universe is picking us off one by one. Yesterday part of the poop deck went, and with it all the toilets.

Since, on the other hand, anyone plunging stubbornly into all this literature cannot resist the impression that though he encounters fragments of perhaps brilliant intellectual constructions, these fragments are mixed indiscriminately with the products of utter foolishness bordering on insanity, as an antithesis to the concept of the "oceanic yogi" there arose the idea of the "oceanic idiot.

Hallorann saw a grave sort of beauty there that had been missing on the day he had first met her, some nine months ago. Then she had still been mostly girl. Now she was a woman, a human being who had been dragged around to the dark side of the moon and had come back able to put the pieces back together. But those pieces, Hallorann thought, they never fit just the same way again. Never in this world.

There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.

Hold fast to whatever fragments of love that exist, for sometimes a mosaic is more beautiful than an unbroken pattern.

aš niekada nefilmuoju ger? performans? ar intensyvaus gyvenimo aš filmuoju tik blogus performansus ir kasdieninio gyvenimo fragmentus su kuriais aš tada kuriu intensyv? nauj? gyvenim?.

When an explosion takes place lots of bits and pieces fly all over the scenery. The greater the wallop the larger the lumps and the farther they travel. These are fundamental facts known to every schoolchild old enough to have some sneaky suspicions about the birds and the bees. They were not known or perhaps they were not fully realized by Johannes Pretorius van der Camp Blieder despite the fact that he was fated to create the biggest bang in human history.

When memory is disrupted, these essential mental faculties suffer. Thus, memory is the glue that holds our mental life together. Without its unifying force, our consciousness would be broken into as many fragments as there are seconds in the day.

Our memory consists of bits and pieces which have made their imprint on our dreams and our life. All those fragments have enlightened or darkened the sky and the horizon of our existence. They are all instances that we don't want to forget or splinters that we can't obliterate. The mind collects them and by recalling, interpreting or idealizing them, the actuality very often becomes corroded. We experience then a "mutilated memory".--