Quotes About Individuality

Not everyone has to be the Chosen One. Not everyone has to be the guy who saves the world. Most people just have to live their lives the best they can, doing the things that are great for them, having great friends, trying to make their lives better, loving people properly. All the while knowing that the world makes no sense but trying to find a way to be happy anyway.

This is who you are, do you see?" Tomasz continues.

His mother shakes her head. "Everyone thinks they know what's best. Everyone." And then a voice behind him says, "Sometimes you need to find out that you don't, though.

No one wanted to hear that people other than themselves might be complicated, that no one was ever just one thing, no history ever just one version.

Doesn't a part of you think you're making a big deal out of not very much? That if you were somehow not so weak, you could be happy and free just like everyone else?

The thing is, Todd, people don't really want freedom, no matter how much they might bleat on about it.

Not everyone has to be the chosen one. Not everyone has to be the guy who saves the world. Most people just have to live their lives the best they can, doing the things that are great from them, having great friends, trying to make their lives better, loving people probably. All the while knowing that the world makes no sense but trying to find a way to be happy anyways.

We are the choices we make. And have to make. We aren't anything else.

What are you?" Conor asked, pulling his arms closer around himself. I am not a "what," frowned the monster. I am a "who." "Who are you, then?" Conor said. The monster's eyes widened. Who am I? it said, its voice getting louder. Who am I? The

I can't tell you what's real for you. But in return, you can't say what's real for me either. I get to choose. Not you.

Her accent's funny, different from mine, different from anyone in Prentisstown's. Her lips make different kinds of outlines for the letters, like they're swooping down on them from above, pushing them into shape, telling them what to say. In Prentisstown, everyone talks like they're sneaking up on their words, ready to club them from behind. Manchee

You needed to know it, but for the rest of this, I'm choosing my own story. Because if you can't do that, you might as well just give up.

There's peace to be found in doing something for yourself.

Everyone's got something. Not even just us, everyone we know. (...) Except maybe the indie kids. They're probably the most normal ones out there.

I thought I could organise freedom. How Scandinavian of me. –Björk

She ain't my girl, she's her own girl, she don't belong to anyone.

You be as angry as you need to be," she said. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Not your grandma, not your dad, no one. And if you need to break things, then by God, you break them good and hard.

Believing that, even though you are not personally in control of everything that happens, that even as our days are numbered and death comes for the righteous and the wise just as it does for the foolish and the wicked – that even lost as we are among the stars – your life nevertheless counts for something that is original and unique, a one-time-only appearance of your personality here on earth, something to be appreciated and maximized, made the most of, every day.

I have an apple that thinks its a pear. And a bun that thinks it's a cat. And a lettuce that thinks its a lettuce." "It's a clever lettuce, then." "Hardly," she said with a delicate snort. "Why would anything clever think it's a lettuce?" "Even if it is a lettuce?" I asked. "Especially then," she said. "Bad enough to be a lettuce. How awful to think you are a lettuce too.

We are more than the parts that form us.

There are so many men, all endlessly attempting to sweep me off my feet. And there is one of you, trying just the opposite. Making sure my feet are firm beneath me, lest I fall.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made. Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude. But those people do not understand love, or music, or me.

The world needs people like you,' Simmon said in the tone of voice that let me know he was turning philosophical. 'You get things done. Not always the best way, or the most sensible way, but it gets done nonetheless. You're a rare creature.