Quotes About Recognition

and in general it was a great pleasure all the time I staid here to see how I am respected and honoured by all people; and I find that I begin to know now how to receive so much reverence, which at the beginning I could not tell how to do.

saying my fellow-officers are obliged to me, as indeed they

An artist simply cannot trust any public emblem of merit.

So howled out for the world to give him a name. The indark answered with wind.

mean, you don't go around thinking about yourself by your own name, do you? Nobody does—unless somebody calls to you by it, or asks you what it is. I haven't been around people who know me for…for a while now.

While a name is always something you can choose, it only functions socially as long as I call you by it. (And try calling people names that they don't choose to be called by, if you want to see some real social unrest.)

I pass, like night, from land to land;I have strange power of speech;That moment that his face I see,I know the man that must hear me:To him my tale I teach.

Darling, I have enemies I've never met. that's fame!

I am only as good as my last publication. Guess I am doing ok in that area.

For years the physicist Donna Strickland was not deemed notable enough for an entry. She finally got her place in Wikipedia on the day she won the Nobel Prize. Surely that cannot be what it takes to be remembered? No man is held to such a standard.

In October 2015 Emily Temple-Wood, one of the site's long-standing editors, told the Atlantic magazine that she had identified almost 4400 female scientists who met Wikipedia's inclusion standards but did not have a page. For years the physicist Donna Strickland was not deemed notable enough for an entry. She finally got her place in Wikipedia on the day she won the Nobel Prize. Surely that cannot be what it takes to be remembered? No man is held to such a standard.

Blake, the English painter, poet and printmaker, was clearly a man stuck in the P section of potential careers. Now he is considered a great artist, but in his lifetime he was largely ignored or thought to be mad. I suspect it was because he was a gloriously original thinker, and no one ever really likes that.

Certainly our market economy places less value on the work of cleaning houses or working in a child-care center than it does on financial management, the practice of medicine, or jobs in manufacturing. To the extent that these latter fields have been understood as male domain, they represent a piece of the male-dominated system that keeps women in subjugated roles.

if you remembered everything that comes into your brain, your brain would not work properly and your ability to creatively think and imagine would be diminished. Everyday life would be difficult; sure, you'd be able to recall long lists and cite elegiac love poems, but you'd struggle to grasp abstract concepts and even to recognize faces. There's

Solidarity does not assume that our struggles are the same struggles, or that our pain is the same pain, or that our hope is for the same future. Solidarity involves commitment, and work, as well as the recognition that even if we do not have the same feelings, or the same lives, or the same bodies, we do live on common ground.

Those of us committed to a queer life know that forms of recognition are either precariously conditional, you have to be the right kind of queer by depositing your hope for happiness in the right places (even with perverse desire you can have straight aspirations), or it is simply not given.

My father," said Elizabeth, "is made of the same fabric as my uncle Merriweather and every other Englishman I've ever come across. He cannot see my point, because he cannot see me. Do you realize that, Curiosity? He sees me as a—commodity. The person I am, that person is invisible to him.

There was an energy to Los Angeles that was sharp and would cut you if you didn't recognize it. Every grain of sand in the beaches and desert buried under the city was a little razor, ready and willing to wound.

He could offer only withness, but nothing else was asked.

The woman wasn't Mr. Kahn's sister. She was Mr. Kahn.

You don't have to keep thanking me. I'm not Mother Teresa.

No wonder Emma didn't see me. No wonder I wasn't in the mirror. I wasn't really there. I was dead. ... Emma stared at the girl's huge, blue eyes, slightly upturned nose, and round face. She looked exactly like her. That was because the girl in the video was me.

And I'm also really, really into the algorithms. Hashtags, shout-outs, geotagging, getting tagged on bigger accounts and on the Instagram Explore page—it's all about climbing a ladder and getting yourself noticed.

Emily peered at Carolyn's tall glass of dark liquid. It had a familiar smell, and she burst out laughing. "Is that straight-up Dr Pepper?" Carolyn raised her glass. "Heck yeah, it is.