Quotes About Individuality

I like a woman with meat on her bones." She laughed. "My hips express their deepest appreciation, Major Winslow.

No," I shout, because my mother doesn't know what I like anymore. "I don't eat things that bleed. Just cheese with lettuce or tomato and mayo. No dead fish or animals, please." "You see what I have to put up with?" my mother says.

What you did in the past is your business. Those were your choices—your mistakes—if you even believe they were mistakes. Stop caring what anyone thinks and live your life the way you want to live it.

You need to put on a pretty dress and have Corinne arrange your hair... and don't forget to bring your mind. --Julie de Bercy

She would never let anyone interfere with her right to use her mind.

You can't save everybody. In fact, there are days when I think you can't save anyone. Each person has to save himself first, then you can move in and help. I have found this philosophy does not work during a gun battle, or a knife fight either. Outside of that it works just fine.

There comes a point when you either embrace who and what you are, or condemn yourself to be miserable all your days. Other people will try to make you miserable; don't help them by doing the job yourself.

You can't save everybody. In fact, there are days when I think you can't save anyone. Each person has to save himself first, then you can move in and help. I have found this philosophy does not work during a gun battle, or a knife fight either. Outside of that it works just fine.

I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that.

I'd like to meet the man who decided that people do or don't look Jewish. What the hell does that mean anyway? Is it the American penchant for pinning things down, catergorizing, for pigeonholing people? Whatever it is, it's wrong.

From my own self-analysis, which I seldom indulge in, I am what I am.

Everywhere around me, already I see cliques, the kinds of cliques you see in schools everywhere: jocks, troublemakers, mathletes, you name it. Me, I am in a clique unto myself, the sole member of the group called "crazy.

Because I want to go to the dance," I said. "But why can't you go as a boy? Won't it be risky going as a girl?" Of course it would be risky. But everything I'd done for the past four months had been risky. I took a deep breath before speaking. "I want to go as a girl, because I want to dance with a particular boy." Mrs. Smithers rolled her eyes at this. "There's always a boy, isn't there?

You realize that life is simply too short to keep being someone you're not.

Listen, I'm bossy. I can't help it. It's who I am and what I do. I'm pushy and I like to take over. But I'm going to work really hard not to do so much and your going to try and accept me the way I am. Flaws and all. Because I'm good in bed and I can carry heavy things and reach all the high shelves.

I hope you find a place in your life when you can let go and be happy. But I'm not a dirty secret. I'm not bad and wrong for being comfortable with myself, and I won't let you make me feel that way.

You're a pain in my ass." "I was a pain in the ass long before I met you, Roman. Don't take it personally.

I'm a nosy old woman, it's a perk of getting old. You can be annoying and people just call you eccentric.

My position on what other people think of me is, fuck what other people think.

Andrew, you are aware that no one should be that shade of orange unless they're an Oompa-Loompa,right?

They don't like you because they can't own you. You're not after all the things they think are important.

No, no, I'm not one of them. I'm one of you. I believe that Jesus Christ is Lord, but I also wear fishnet stockings and drink single malt Scotch.

I become professional or hip, depending on what I am wearing. I feel different when I am wearing different clothes. I act different. I let my Talbots suits and my vintage shirts remake me in their image. I want to let Jesus do the same.

Hannah has gone over to her friend Delaney's house. Hannah has a slew of friends with names like that, Delaney and Cassidy and Reilly, and even a tiny, owlish girl named O'Malley: names, it seems, that their parents plucked arbitrarily from the Boston phone book.