Quotes About Fragmentation

I was peeling apart in layers. I was breaking into bits. She was coming apart at the seams … my head buzzing with a confusion of junk noise, white noise, space junk, a junkyard of noisy thought that made me long instead for a lovely, petaled silence.

I thought of the pieces of me I'd left behind, a piece here, a piece there, scattered like bread crumbs. How much of me was left?

It was as if I had spent thirteen years specialising in a certain language, only to discover all its speakers had scattered and renounced their native tongue. No, worse than that, because at least dead languages could be studied. This was as if I had spent my life learning to play a certain unique instrument, only to see some crazed vandal smash it to pieces.

I cannot know who I am, because I don't know which part of me is not me.

I learned what it was like to lose yourself. To feel the fragments flying off you. As if your soul has unhitched itself from your body and is flying away on a piece of string like a balloon. Lost in the clouds. You think, I only have to catch the end of the string. But though it hovers within sight, you cannot grasp it. You try and try. And then there comes a time when you are too tired. You no longer care. So you say: Let it go. Let me just fall down here on the soft grass and go to sleep.

I moved through the days like a severed head that finishes a sentence.

Education prepares to be one piece of a machine.

With the fragmentation of television audiences and the advent of cable and on-demand services, the prestige of being an anchor is not what it was in the days of Walter Cronkite.

Mortar fragments caused 70 percent of the battle casualties among four U.S. infantry divisions in Normandy;

He was in that familiar state - not that the occasion mattered to seriously to him -- of incoherent ideas spreading outward without a center, so characteristic of the present, and whose strange arithmetic adds up to a random proliferation of numbers without forming a unit.

There's no longer a whole man confronting a whole world, only a human something moving about in a general cultural-medium.

Jack Burden could read those words, but how could he be expected to understand them? They could only be words to him, for to him the world then was simply an accumulation of items, odds and ends of things like the broken and misused and dust-shrouded things gathered in a garret. Or it was a flux of things before his eyes (or behind his eyes) and one thing had nothing to do, in the end, with anything else.

I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

Human science fragments everything in order to understand it, kills everything in order to examine it.

[M]odern society is indeed often, at least in surface appearance, nothing but a collection of strangers, each pursuing his or her own interests under minimal constraints.

I feel like a sickness and dystrophy is growing in people, like people are getting sicker, something about our society, something about our psychological structures. We're not whole.

What has been cut apart cannot be glued back together. Abandon all hope of totality, future as well as past, you who enter the world of fluid modernity.

A house divided cannot stand.

Clashes of taste are an inevitable by-product of a world where forces continually fragment and deplete us in new ways.

The air grows too warm, too quickly. I want very much for a beautiful woman to hand me a glass of very cold beer. All the atoms in the test chamber are screaming at once. The light. . . the light is taking me to pieces.

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

This strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims.

During this investigation, I became familiar with certain limits of the rational gaze. It tends to fragment reality and to exclude complementarity and the association of contraries from it's field of vision...The rational approach starts from the idea that everything is explainable and that mystery is in some sense the enemy. This means that it prefers pejorative, and even wrong, answers to admitting its own lack of understanding.

Biblical Hebrew is not a language in the full sense of the word but merely a 'fragment of language'.