Quotes About Individuality

I wanted no grand mission, no 'causes,' just a life - a quiet, perhaps a frivolous life - of my own.

Nothing else has any efficacy, I might as well be myself. - But your yourself sucks! - It is, lamentably, all I have.

The world is full of whiners. But the fact is, nothing comes with a guarantee. They say as soon as you're born, you're dying, and everything in between is a struggle just to stay sane. And once you're out here in the wide-open world... you're on your own.

The feeling of being different is really what makes us the same. We have our own struggles, yet we want the same things. We want human connection, a place to feel at home, and pizza.

The best part about being alone is that you really don't have to answer to anybody. You do what you want.

Was being seen the cost of the right to see? No, the worst of it was that my fate was too personal, too special. Unlike hunger, unrequited love, unemployment, sickness, bankruptcy, natural calamity, criminal exposure, my suffering was nothing I endured in common with other men. My misfortune was forever mine alone. Anyone at all could disregard me completely without feeling the slightest twinge of conscience. And I was not even permitted to protest that disregard.

Fiecare îÅŸi are propria lui filosofie, care nu i se potriveÅŸte decît lui.

Surely I have made too much of my loneliness. I thought my loneliness greater than all mankind's combined.

Why did one have to put up a hue and cry about anything so trifling as the skin on one's face, which, after all, was only a small part of the human capsule? ... While such a situation would be understandable in a pimply adolescent who lives in visions, it was ridiculous for me, the section head of a respectable laboratory, moored securely to this world by an anchor-like weight, to be afflicted by psychological hives.

No matter how many faces I have, there is no changing the fact that I am me. I was just attempting to fill in a too-long intermission in my life with a trivial "masked play.

In such a cruel, self-centered crowd would there ever be some soft-hearted fellow who would sell me his face?

If I were just in trousers, somehow I could go out into the world. It would make no difference whether I was naked from the waist up and my feet bare just as long as I had trousers on. Otherwise if you go walking around the streets without trousers, no matter how new your shoes and how elegant your coat, it's enough to raise a big hue and cry. Enlightened society is a kind of trouser society.

you yourself were split into several parts. Just as I had a double existence, you did too. If I was another person wearing a stranger's mask, you were another person wearing the mask of yourself. Another wearing the mask of himself … a gruesome combination.…

it doesn't follow that all bearded men are bullies or heroes. There's the fortuneteller's beard, the Lenin cut, or again the European aristocrat's. And then there's the Castro beard and what is apparently the latest style—the beards sported by youngsters posing as artists, but just what that is called I don't know.

No te parece que una persona con genitales masculinos y femeninos es el símbolo supremo de poder y de belleza?

Verrücktheiten können ganz normal sein, solange man sie selbst tut; beobachtet man einen anderen dabei, rümpft man die Nase, dreht sich rasch um und geht davon.

That is all you can think of: what people will say! One goes from one end of the world to the other to hear the same story. Does it matter what people say?

Sweet? Submissive? May as well be a housewife Ã¢â'¬Â¦ it dims my luster, makes me resemble others—that's the worst thing that could happen.

People worship different things; there must be 'no coercion in matters of faith!

Different isn't wrong. It's just different.

My dress is of plain forest green wool, but the other girls are wearing beautiful tunics the color of gems- ruby dresses with sapphire mantles and dappled with jewels that dance before me like little insects on fire. My hair is dark as a crow, but theirs is red and gold and even longer than mine. A ray of sun slashes through the turbulent Irish sky, and I see that my friends' perfect skin shimmers in the sun, making them almost translucent.

I suppose that Lucy and I were worthy of the male gaze, what with her pale blond beauty shown off nicely in a peach summer frock, in contrast to my black hair set against light skin. Tonight I wore my favorite dress of pale green linen, which everyone said complemented my eyes, and a cotton bolero jacket perfect for a summer evening.

It does not pay to be possessive of a man determined to remain free.

You can get lost, pretending to be someone you're not.