Quotes About Individuality

Lisa Scottoline

We had a meeting where we were supposed to learn how to respond to jerks who ask things like When did you know you were adopted? Most people picture a scene where the parents sit you down and you find out who you are. I didn't need that meeting to know how to answer, because all I had to do was look in the mirror. When people ask me that question, I always say, When did you find out you weren't adopted? How do you know your mother is your birth mother?

How different it is with friendship. No one picks a friend for us; we come together by choice. We are not tied together through ceremony or the responsibility to create a son; we tie ourselves together through moments. The spark when we first meet. Laughter and tears shared. Secrets packed away to be treasured, hoarded, and protected. The wonder that someone can be so different from you and yet still understand your heart in a way no one else ever will. I remember clearly

But that's the thing about mental illness; there's no such thing as a cookie-cutter diagnosis. We're all crazy in our own special way. Some of us just have it worse than others.

Each of us extracted different people from our parents by our personalities and hence we had different experiences growing up.

As parents, we must accept that our children are who they are. We can't make them into something we want, or be disappointed in them because they don't meet our artificial expectations.

when we put on clothes, we're telling ourselves something, and we're communicating that something to every person we meet.

You know," he said. He paused a minute, as though picking his words carefully. "It's okay to disappoint people sometimes. It's okay for us to say no simply because we don't want to do something." Intellectually

Totally different outcomes; we've made totally different choices in our lives. Like I said, how you were raised is part of the big picture. It's one important factor in a million. But in the end, it's not just the big and small events that make you who you are, make your life what it is, it's how you choose to react to them.

The girl with the pictures on her skin

Don't make apologies for being yourself.

What is it that they say? That thing about happy and unhappy families? That happiness is all the same, but misery is unique?

Life's not so simple. People are many things, each of them true.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. —Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

The truth is that we're all essentially alone. The lucky ones have a crew to share the load from birth to death. But in the end, we go as we came—a single entity, just passing through. But that's not a thing people like to hear. The story of being surrounded and supported and loved, being a part of something, the whole, almost sacred notion that family is everything is sold hard, and bought completely.

We're all crazy in our own special way. Some of us just have it wore than others.

feel like when my mother died, she took with her the Mia I saw when she looked at me. I could never find that girl in my own reflection. To Mom, I was special—bright, powerful, beautiful—her angel. To the rest of the world, I was just a girl. Small for my age, shy, passingly pretty, smart enough. Just Mia.

God help you in America if you are not thin and fit, attractive, athletic, and coordinated, driven to win at any cost. God help you if you are broken or sad, or even just cerebral, or artistic, or just want to be left alone. You will be told in a million different ways—directly, subliminally—just how deficient you are. But nowhere will the message be

We're all crazy in our own special way. Some of us just have it worse than others.

Kuh-laire, Is cam a fattening Girl Scout Cookie layered with peanut butter and a chocolate coating? No. Then dont make him a tagalong!

Viktor was swinging a leather duffle and wearing a black Adidas tracksuit and his favorite brown UGG slippers with a hole in the toe. Worn and old, just like Viv, he'd say when Frankie made fun of them, and then his wife would swat him on the arm. But Frankie knew he was just joking, because Viveka was the type of woman you wished was in a magazine just so you could stare at her violet-colored eyes and shiny black hair without being called a stalker or a freak.

A girl should want to look good for herself, not for boys.

She's gay?" "No." Addie reached for the burnt bagel, took a bite. "But she is human.

There's this expectation that we should all be sexual beings, but the fact is, not all of us are, particularly.