Half of a person. Half of a whole, that was what you were to me. Half of a life. Half of a dream. Half of a want. Half of the journey. Half full or half not. Half something you might want. Half. Half. Half.
Half of my life was perfect. i smiled, I danced, I cheered. But the other half, was a nightmare. The other half was the real me. Not the me I wanted to be, of course, but the me I was, none the less. I was an actress, not by choice, but by survival, by need. i had learned growing up how to seem like the happiest girl in the world. How to fake it.
He is my other half. For every thing that I am not, he is. He fills the gaps, the nooks, the crannies. He is my smile, the reason my hands have not dusted and aged prematurely. He is my inspiration. I love him. And always have.
I love half as a fraction. It’s so simple. Divide by two.
Half notes. Half notes. My students never play their half notes long enough and we always have to go back and review. I’m forever reminding that half notes equal not half but two.
I don’t suppose it’s a healthy way to go through life, but I’d always sort of considered myself one half of a whole. I was one half, and Fred was the other. Sure, we had differences, I mean, no one is anyone’s perfect mirror image, but there was no denying that we were part of each other, we /belonged/ to each other.
half the time I am wondering if what I think is really the reality of what is happening around me, or is it simply all in my head then I settle down and say yes, because it is my reality, my perception and it belongs to me.
I don’t need a wink of time to consider or think about it: you are, without a doubt, my better half. There’s a reason why people call it better and you make it true to the root. No contest there.
he’s my other half, though it bothers me i think about him so much. i don’t feel independent as much. maybe he’s my other half in the sense that i’ve given part of myself to him. i used to enjoy solitude and thrive in it, but for the first time ever, i need someone else.
Half of us – some say that it is a soul mate, some may think the tear-drop half of a heart. Some may see it as a start to something full, some may see it as falling behind. It can define us. It can tell us who we are as individual human beings.
Half the time, I just don’t know how to write. Half the time, I spend teaching my students at school. Half and half milk is my indulgence, I usually choose non-fat milk. Let’s be specific. I have the grande, iced, cafe americano, with non-fat milk and no sweetener.
I’ve always been a glass half-empty kind of person. I expect the worst and plan accordingly. In fact, I’ve found that over the years, I am more distraught when things actually go according to plan than when they don’t. In this way, I think I’m more prepared for life and its ensuing disappointments than one of those eternally irritating optimists.
half of everything is left behind, being left behind is not such a bad thing. Being unremembered is neither good nor bad, cause when your gone it doesnt matter one way or the other. Would you like to be my other half for the time we have left?
Half of a banana sat on the counter, I hated seeing it there. It was rotting away, a waste. I saw one there, every day. My gran left it, clutter, how I hate it. She can’t seem to throw anything away. I take the banana, and throw it in the garbage, cursing.
Half of my heart.
Half of my heart’s got a grip on the situation, half of my heart takes time.
Half full. Half empty. How do you see the glass?
My other HALF. When you think about it, “half” is a really powerful word. You are giving something that was once yours and giving it to someone else. Or even more powerfully, someone is giving you half of THEMselves. You break a loaf of bread into two and give a piece of it away. The word “half” is all about sharing something…and it’s all about combining things to make a whole, too. What a great word.
Today has been quite amusingly stressful, in a “I think I might just go half crazy but I’m not going to let it take over me”, sort of day.
You see, I usually work part-time from home — freelance. Thus making and working 1/2 of the time normal people do. Trouble is, I’m never fully working.
the half of my hear is in my best friend hands is a half very important because is the one that has t most beautifull feelings just for him but he didnt notice
Half of the time I think it’s all worth while, and the other half I just want to give up and never think about it again. There’s something in me that keeps me going, though. Maybe it’s a need to prove myself. Maybe it’s something completely different. But no matter what it is I’ve gotten this far, and I don’t plan to give up anytime soon!
Cows. Half of a cow is black and half is white. It doesn’t matter to us what the cow looks like. We eat them anyways. So why do we care about race? And don’t tell me its because animals aren’t like people.
His care was half-hearted. He told himself to close the ajar door on those memories, to allow the pain to dissolve into cleansed, cremated ashes. She was not the same, this was not history repeating. He closed his eyes and sighed. The girl’s games were fairy-fancy and nothing more; the rumours of his lowers could not trouble his sleep.
She believed she could do it in half the time if he weren’t slowing her up. If he’d just fall asleep, she could ditch him. Did she care really, or was that just a noble idea she’d aspired to in theory? What to do now that it mattered?
She was only half. The better half or the worse half, nobody knew. Her twin was the other half. Together they were whole. Whole is always better than half, but half is always better than none.
The flag was half mass on a day of intolerable grieving. It was the day after 9/11 that we realized the faith we could have in our great country. The United States of America!
half and half is cream. I can’t have cream because I’m allergic to dairy. I hate that. I love eating dairy and it makes me sad that I can’t do anything about it. blah. oh well.
Spread it across a bagel. Or a cracker. Maybe if you’re feeling particularly cultured a pita chip. But well, not many people are willing to put up that sort of pretense to seem cultured.
half my life was spent in search for Jesus. well, the acceptance of Jesus. And let me tell you I never found it b/c Jesus wasn’t ever who i expected him to be. jesus isn’t MEN. I was always trying to please men. Always trying to please the people of the church of the world of the congregation of the “bible. it never worked. Jesus isn’t men. Don’t waste your time, don’t waste half your life…on trying to find jesus…b/c he isn’t in church. jesus is inside of you. he is inside of the people you least expect. . . jesus is inside of you and me.
half of the cake was gone and Martha didn’t quite know how to feel about it. It was her birthday and by hell she was expecting more than only HALF her cake! She then decided to find out through a process of elimination the cul
Don’t do anything half way.
Give it your all.
Half is a waffling action.
It means that you’re not committed.
You go girl, get up and give it your whole being.
At the end of the day, you want to be spent.
That’s how I feel about the notion of half.
What is the best thing to have half of? Half a large sub? Half a tank of gas? Is your glass half full, or half empty? I love having half of my hair done, I know I’m almost ready to leave!
one time I bought a carton of half and half milk. it was half cream and half whole milk. I decided to put it in my coffee as well as sugar and flavorings. I couldn’t decide between caramel and vanilla so I just put both. then my coffee spilled all over the floor.
Half. Half of me which is what i’m feeling and longing for. I think of the lost half that i havent found yet ], that one person that completes me. Or just the other half of my heart and soul i lost along time ago and that i’m always searching for.
Half of a person. Half of a whole, that was what you were to me. Half of a life. Half of a dream. Half of a want. Half of the journey. Half full or half not. Half something you might want. Half. Half. Half.
Hurt me
Silence kills
Forget me
You’re return sicks me
Half of my life was perfect. i smiled, I danced, I cheered. But the other half, was a nightmare. The other half was the real me. Not the me I wanted to be, of course, but the me I was, none the less. I was an actress, not by choice, but by survival, by need. i had learned growing up how to seem like the happiest girl in the world. How to fake it.
He is my other half. For every thing that I am not, he is. He fills the gaps, the nooks, the crannies. He is my smile, the reason my hands have not dusted and aged prematurely. He is my inspiration. I love him. And always have.
Half and half is not quite cream.
I love half as a fraction. It’s so simple. Divide by two.
Half notes. Half notes. My students never play their half notes long enough and we always have to go back and review. I’m forever reminding that half notes equal not half but two.
I don’t suppose it’s a healthy way to go through life, but I’d always sort of considered myself one half of a whole. I was one half, and Fred was the other. Sure, we had differences, I mean, no one is anyone’s perfect mirror image, but there was no denying that we were part of each other, we /belonged/ to each other.
half the time I am wondering if what I think is really the reality of what is happening around me, or is it simply all in my head then I settle down and say yes, because it is my reality, my perception and it belongs to me.
I don’t need a wink of time to consider or think about it: you are, without a doubt, my better half. There’s a reason why people call it better and you make it true to the root. No contest there.
Half a dozen eggs is a rip off cuz there should be more. Unless its half off than it wouldn’t be half bad. Half the time their broken anyway.
he’s my other half, though it bothers me i think about him so much. i don’t feel independent as much. maybe he’s my other half in the sense that i’ve given part of myself to him. i used to enjoy solitude and thrive in it, but for the first time ever, i need someone else.
Half of us – some say that it is a soul mate, some may think the tear-drop half of a heart. Some may see it as a start to something full, some may see it as falling behind. It can define us. It can tell us who we are as individual human beings.
Half the time, I just don’t know how to write. Half the time, I spend teaching my students at school. Half and half milk is my indulgence, I usually choose non-fat milk. Let’s be specific. I have the grande, iced, cafe americano, with non-fat milk and no sweetener.
life becomes half when you are not with me!
half suggests incomplete aspects!
nothing deserves half of your efforts
I’ve always been a glass half-empty kind of person. I expect the worst and plan accordingly. In fact, I’ve found that over the years, I am more distraught when things actually go according to plan than when they don’t. In this way, I think I’m more prepared for life and its ensuing disappointments than one of those eternally irritating optimists.
half of everything is left behind, being left behind is not such a bad thing. Being unremembered is neither good nor bad, cause when your gone it doesnt matter one way or the other. Would you like to be my other half for the time we have left?
Half empty, deflated, not all there
Detached, half-gone, becoming forgotten
Half of a banana sat on the counter, I hated seeing it there. It was rotting away, a waste. I saw one there, every day. My gran left it, clutter, how I hate it. She can’t seem to throw anything away. I take the banana, and throw it in the garbage, cursing.
Half of my heart.
Half of my heart’s got a grip on the situation, half of my heart takes time.
Half full. Half empty. How do you see the glass?
My other HALF. When you think about it, “half” is a really powerful word. You are giving something that was once yours and giving it to someone else. Or even more powerfully, someone is giving you half of THEMselves. You break a loaf of bread into two and give a piece of it away. The word “half” is all about sharing something…and it’s all about combining things to make a whole, too. What a great word.
Today has been quite amusingly stressful, in a “I think I might just go half crazy but I’m not going to let it take over me”, sort of day.
You see, I usually work part-time from home — freelance. Thus making and working 1/2 of the time normal people do. Trouble is, I’m never fully working.
Never fully at play.
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the half of my hear is in my best friend hands is a half very important because is the one that has t most beautifull feelings just for him but he didnt notice
Half of the time I think it’s all worth while, and the other half I just want to give up and never think about it again. There’s something in me that keeps me going, though. Maybe it’s a need to prove myself. Maybe it’s something completely different. But no matter what it is I’ve gotten this far, and I don’t plan to give up anytime soon!
Cows. Half of a cow is black and half is white. It doesn’t matter to us what the cow looks like. We eat them anyways. So why do we care about race? And don’t tell me its because animals aren’t like people.
Half the halves for killer calves.
It takes half an hour for a body to get stiff when it dies. Every single thing that´s been going on for so many years gone for good.
His care was half-hearted. He told himself to close the ajar door on those memories, to allow the pain to dissolve into cleansed, cremated ashes. She was not the same, this was not history repeating. He closed his eyes and sighed. The girl’s games were fairy-fancy and nothing more; the rumours of his lowers could not trouble his sleep.
She believed she could do it in half the time if he weren’t slowing her up. If he’d just fall asleep, she could ditch him. Did she care really, or was that just a noble idea she’d aspired to in theory? What to do now that it mattered?
She was only half. The better half or the worse half, nobody knew. Her twin was the other half. Together they were whole. Whole is always better than half, but half is always better than none.
The flag was half mass on a day of intolerable grieving. It was the day after 9/11 that we realized the faith we could have in our great country. The United States of America!
Half mast-
ery blast
from a canon
placed in the casket
took aback
back-tracked
from when treasure took
a parrot hooks
a line
explosive
half and half is cream. I can’t have cream because I’m allergic to dairy. I hate that. I love eating dairy and it makes me sad that I can’t do anything about it. blah. oh well.
Spread it across a bagel. Or a cracker. Maybe if you’re feeling particularly cultured a pita chip. But well, not many people are willing to put up that sort of pretense to seem cultured.
Actually, you are exactly that type of person.
half my life was spent in search for Jesus. well, the acceptance of Jesus. And let me tell you I never found it b/c Jesus wasn’t ever who i expected him to be. jesus isn’t MEN. I was always trying to please men. Always trying to please the people of the church of the world of the congregation of the “bible. it never worked. Jesus isn’t men. Don’t waste your time, don’t waste half your life…on trying to find jesus…b/c he isn’t in church. jesus is inside of you. he is inside of the people you least expect. . . jesus is inside of you and me.
half of the cake was gone and Martha didn’t quite know how to feel about it. It was her birthday and by hell she was expecting more than only HALF her cake! She then decided to find out through a process of elimination the cul
Half of everything is something.
Something is so much better than nothing.
We decided to go half on a baby. I am thrilled.
Don’t do anything half way.
Give it your all.
Half is a waffling action.
It means that you’re not committed.
You go girl, get up and give it your whole being.
At the end of the day, you want to be spent.
That’s how I feel about the notion of half.
What is the best thing to have half of? Half a large sub? Half a tank of gas? Is your glass half full, or half empty? I love having half of my hair done, I know I’m almost ready to leave!
one time I bought a carton of half and half milk. it was half cream and half whole milk. I decided to put it in my coffee as well as sugar and flavorings. I couldn’t decide between caramel and vanilla so I just put both. then my coffee spilled all over the floor.
Half. Half of me which is what i’m feeling and longing for. I think of the lost half that i havent found yet ], that one person that completes me. Or just the other half of my heart and soul i lost along time ago and that i’m always searching for.