It is difficult to move without leaving traces, crumbs, behind.
— Cristina Rivera Garza, The Taiga Syndrome

I am a fragment
Hurtling through space
— Alan Lightman, Song of Two Worlds

I come to realize (all over again) that a fragmented take can sometimes be the most accurate.
— Cedar Sigo, ‘The Endless Overlay’

I’m not comfortable with linear form. I mean I am genuinely more comfortable with a fragmented situation.
— David Bowie interviewed by Hermann Vaske

I hid from each of my lives in a fragment from another. There was rarely a connection between my actions, desires, and dreams.
— Antonio Muñoz Molina, Like a Fading Shadow

The search for origins ends with the discovery of fragments
— John Gray, The Soul of the Marionette

Bit by bit, discoveries reconfigure our understanding of reality. This reality is revealed to us only in fragments. The more fragments we perceive and parse, the more lifelike the mosaic we make of them. But it is still a mosaic, a representation—imperfect and incomplete, however beautiful it may be, and subject to unending transfiguration.
— Maria Popova, Figuring

Fragmentary impressions, scraps of others’ memories and others’ thoughts, still clung to me: what had washed up on my shores.
— James Sallis, Death Will Have Your Eyes

These fragments I have shored against my ruins
— T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land

for the fragment always grieves for its whole
— Robert Macfarlane, Landmarks

each of us has some inner awareness of our own fragmentary, deconstructed state, and seeks refuge from this awareness in the illusion of wholeness.
— Stephen Frosh, Identity Crisis

Are we perhaps condemned to wholeness, and every fragmentation, every quartering, will only be a pretence, will happen on the surface, underneath which, however, the plan remains intact, unalterable? Does even the smallest fragment belong to the whole?
— Olga Tokarczuk, Flights

He is made of shards and broken fragments of the past, of prophecies and of dreams of his ancestral line. The tides of history break inside him, their current threatens to carry him away.
— Hilary Mantel, The Mirror & the Light

The adventure seeks him out
— Nathan Ward, The Lost Detective

One clue might lead to many more,
if we could get a slender prompt from which to start.
— Sophocles, Oedipus Rex

In connecting the dots, traversing the gaps between fragments and stitching them together – a meaningful whole emerges.
— Nick Sousanis, Unflattening

With words we begin to leave traces behind us like breadcrumbs: memories in symbols for others to follow.
— James Gleick, The Information

He noticed everything and everything he saw was like a memory. Nothing surprised him. What he saw dissolved instantly into memory as if some intermediate stage in the process of cognition had been skipped.
— Geoff Dyer, The Search

It was all jumbled up. In it, the detective investigated the crime, tracked down every clue, interviewed every possible suspect, only to discover that he himself was the murderer.
— Jenny Offill, Weather

The ultimate plot of a noir film is where the detective ends up chasing himself—not just someone like a self. But this chasing-of-oneself is exactly what happens in any first person narrative because the narrating I is structurally different from the I that is the topic of the narration.

— Timothy Morton, Humankind

It’s the worst thing in the world
catching sight of yourself.
— Robin Robertson, The Long Take

like all of us, a work in progress.
— Laura Cumming, The Vanishing Man

We are all untied, is the thing.
Untethered, floating, drifting, all these things.
— Megan Hunter, The End We Start From

More questions than answers, and this usually meant a story.
— Danny Denton, The Earlie King & The Kid in Yellow

But if stories are one of the ways we make sense of the world, they are also how we experience whatever doesn’t makes sense, whatever cannot be fully understood. Stories are how we stand in the presence of mystery. If mystery, the genre, is about finding the answers, then mystery, that elusive yet essential element of fiction, is about finding the questions.
— Maud Casey, The Art of Mystery