There was a fragment of the glass laying on the ground. Jack picked it up and gazed at the blueishness as he held it up to the sun. He squeezed to hard and cut his finger leaving a fragment of glass in his hand.
Sometimes the little things in life are more important than life, itself. We spend so much time ogling at the big picture, we forget to look at each stroke of the brush. Each fragment in life is more important than the last, and each fragment in life is equally important as the next. That makes absolutely no sense, but, hey, neither does life sometimes.
My heart is a fragment of what it used to be. Shattered and broken I’m dying to find the pieces that are missing. How can I consider you a friend when you have done this to me. How can I go on living when you don’t even care.
the fragment of glass fell from the top of a sky scraper. Although starting without much momentum, by the time it reached the bottom, it became lethal enough
I have to find a way to take pictures of the weekend, so I can document the wars. I may have to resort to using a collection of images provided by friends to prove my point. Our point.
I don’t know what to say about the word Fragment. It just means that something is small. A piece of something else. A tiny microscopic crumb. A fragment of information. A fragment of hope. A fragment on your computer.
Fragments of her memory spilled out onto the page as she fought back the waves of despair. In the background, tones from an old radio witnessed her struggle; they didn’t care, nor did anyone else. But was there a light in this dark tunnel, somewhere to go or someone to stop her? Possibly. But she wasn’t aware. Her pseudo-attackers weren’t aware. The old radio wasn’t aware.
Fragment? Frag…mint? Fragmentation Mint? Holy crap. Does that mean that all mints are explosive? The Doublemint gum twins must be assassins that work in pairs! And the Orbitz lady…!
the glass shattered into amillion shiny fragments, they rane skittering across the floor as the glittered in the soft light of a waning sun.
There was a fragment of the glass laying on the ground. Jack picked it up and gazed at the blueishness as he held it up to the sun. He squeezed to hard and cut his finger leaving a fragment of glass in his hand.
Sometimes the little things in life are more important than life, itself. We spend so much time ogling at the big picture, we forget to look at each stroke of the brush. Each fragment in life is more important than the last, and each fragment in life is equally important as the next. That makes absolutely no sense, but, hey, neither does life sometimes.
Without end. Or beginning really. Hanging into space and thought. Between thoughts. The interjection.
My heart is a fragment of what it used to be. Shattered and broken I’m dying to find the pieces that are missing. How can I consider you a friend when you have done this to me. How can I go on living when you don’t even care.
the fragment of glass fell from the top of a sky scraper. Although starting without much momentum, by the time it reached the bottom, it became lethal enough
I have to find a way to take pictures of the weekend, so I can document the wars. I may have to resort to using a collection of images provided by friends to prove my point. Our point.
the fragments of his fragile porcelain face lay on the ground. his emotions juxtaposed.. nothing happened as planned
I don’t know what to say about the word Fragment. It just means that something is small. A piece of something else. A tiny microscopic crumb. A fragment of information. A fragment of hope. A fragment on your computer.
fragments of my heart i collect and join them again with the bond of love only to shatter. is it worth loving anyone. or one must love only oneself.
Haha….this is very familiar. There have ___ I have so many fragments. I’m fragmenting at this very moment.
Fragments of her memory spilled out onto the page as she fought back the waves of despair. In the background, tones from an old radio witnessed her struggle; they didn’t care, nor did anyone else. But was there a light in this dark tunnel, somewhere to go or someone to stop her? Possibly. But she wasn’t aware. Her pseudo-attackers weren’t aware. The old radio wasn’t aware.
Fragment? Frag…mint? Fragmentation Mint? Holy crap. Does that mean that all mints are explosive? The Doublemint gum twins must be assassins that work in pairs! And the Orbitz lady…!