Quotes About Recognition

Hello old friend," he greeted it, "how strange for us to meet again, like this, with the snow blowing so outside." "You know my...my wrench?" "Of course I know it. It was not a wrench when we were last acquainted, but ones friends may change clothes and still one knows them.

A thing too familiar becomes invisible.

I can't even say her name. She doesn't even have a name. She is she . She is her . She possesses the pronoun so completely that no one else can touch it. There is only one her in the great stinking gas giant of my heart, fifty feet high. She is a giantess. I am no one. Well, not "no one". I am Anchises St. John. But I am no one's him .

Is there anything which does not do as you say?" the girl asked archly. He blushed. "You know my cry. I do not know yours," he mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

In my experience, folk find it nigh on impossible to call a thing what it is. It

They don't know I'm beloved. But I know and that's plenty.

But it feels so good to be held, it feels so good to be spoken to like she is capable and wise, to hear her life gain weight, fed by Cascavel. Fed by being seen.

She listens, and I wish I could give her a little gold trophy for it, but I can't, because of all the things Fuckwits gave trophies for, they never thought listening like nothing exists but time and words was half as important as losing a volleyball tournament.

What's in a name?" rumbled Iago. "People will call you whatever they want. New owner, new name. If it bothers you, you oughtn't come when you're called. They'll learn eventually. I rarely come trotting when someone hollers for me. That's all a name's for, in the end.

It is difficult to notice your faces beyond that, partly because of the dazzling red hair but mostly because there are two of you. You understand this when you are older, when someone brings too many gifts to a birthday party or too many bottles of good wine to a dinner party, and the presents and the wine are undervalued in their own abundance. You are indistinct, undervalued in your own abundance. Sometimes

We also thank, for their tireless contributions to

secondary or insufficiently individualistic to warrant merit.

I have struggled to prove myself into existence.

As I try to move beyond the stereotypes to express my inner consciousness, it's clear that how i am perceived inheres to who i am.

It may be odd that I also felt a "shock of recognition" when I first saw Pryor. But watching Pryor reminded me of an emotional condition that is specific to Koreans: han, a combination of bitterness, wistfulness, shame, melancholy, and vengefulness, accumulated from years of brutal colonialism, war, and U.S.-supported dictatorships that have never been politically redressed. Han is so ongoing that it can even be passed down: to be Korean is to feel han.

Shame gives me the ability to split myself into the first and third person. To recognize myself, as Sartre writes, "as the Other sees me.

not (the curse of anyone nonwhite is that you are so busy arguing what you're not that you never arrive at what you are).

Asians are always mistaken for other Asians, but the least we can do to honor the dead is to ensure they're never mistaken for anyone else again.

Sometimes, people can go missing right before our very eyes.Sometimes, people can discover you, even though they've been looking at you the entire time. Sometimes, we lose sight of ourselves when we're not paying enough attention.

Of course it is. How do you think artists become known? Critics, dealers—they are the people who develop the public taste. Without them, we starve.

Finally, we were notorious enough to give our enemies pause.

Recognition is the greatest motivator.

El reconocimiento de marcas reduce las opciones; y para tomar la decisión final se añade el principio del segundo precio menos elevado. La base lógica es que si uno ha oído hablar de una empresa, seguramente es porque sus productos son buenos.

Until our own time, history focussed on man the achiever; the higher the achiever the more likely it was that the woman who slept in his bed would be judged unworthy of his company. Her husband's fans recoiled from the notion that she might have made a significant contribution towards his achievement of greatness. The possibility that a wife might have been closer to their idol than they could ever be, understood him better than they ever could, could not be entertained.