Half of learning is learning. The other half of learning is unlearning.
Chemically speaking or biologically, we research things, but we don't know half of them. We only know our half of it - symbolically - and we don't know ourselves more than half.
Long ago it was said that 'one half of the world does not know how the other half lives.' That was true then. It did not know because it did not care. The half that was on top cared little for the struggles, and less for the fate, of those who were underneath, so long as it was able to hold them there and keep its own seat.
But fear is confusing. It tears you in two. Half of you wants to run far, far away, but the other half is paralyzed, frozen, immovable. And the hard part is that you never know which half is going to win.
Life seemed to be an educator's practical joke in which you spent the first half learning and the second half learning that everything you learned in the first half was wrong.
A tree there is that from its topmost bough
Is half all glittering flame and half all green
Abounding foliage moistened with the dew;
And half is half and yet is all the scene;
And half and half consume what they renew.
Half the world does not know how the other half lives.
People always seemed to know half of history, and to get it confused with the other half.
A man spends the first half of his life learning habits that shorten the other half.
Learning to earn a living is only half the job. The other half is to make life worthwhile and meaningful.
He [said of one or other eminent colleagues] is a very busy man, and half of what he publishes is true, but I don't know which half.
Half is not enough protection, half is my fault and half is them just doing a good job. I know it's 150 percent, but I'm a little tired now.
One-half of life is luck; the other half is discipline - and that's the important half, for without discipline you wouldn't know what to do with luck.
If bearing a reputation as a weirdo is all it takes to be a genius, I'm a shoo-in. Come to think of it, half the people I know are geniuses - the other half, peculiarly enough, idiots.
Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
It's annoying to be disapproved of by people who know only half the story, especially when you're not sure which half they know.