Quotes About Belonging

When you are successful you naturally feel more at home

Ah, one doesn't give up one's country any more than one gives UP one's grandmother. They're both antecedent to choice—elements of one's composition that are not to be eliminated.

Ah, be mine as I'm yours!

When you're successful you naturally feel more at home.

Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have, but I see now that it was meant to destroy me. To-day I am proud to say that I am inhuman, that I belong not to men and governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles. I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity - I belong to the earth!

One thing is certain, that when you die and are resurrected you belong to the earth and whatever is of the earth is yours inalienably. You become an anomaly of nature, a being without shadow; you will never die again but only pass away like the phenomena about you.

I am a man of the old world, a seed that was transplanted by the wind, a seed which failed to blossom in the mushroom oasis of America. I belong on the heavy tree of the past. My allegiance, physical and spiritual, it is with the men of Europe, those who were once Franks, Gauls, Vikings, Huns, Tatars, what not. The climate for my body and soul is here where there is quickness and corruption. I am proud not to belong in this century.

If you elect to join the herd you are immune. To be accepted and appreciated you must nullify yourself, make yourself indistinguishable from the herd. You may dream, if you dream alike.

Once i thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have, but now I see it was meant to destroy me. Today I am proyd to say that I an inhuman, that I belong not to men and governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles. I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity-I belong to the earth!

Sürüye kat?lmay? seçersen ba????kl?k kazan?rs?n. Kabul görmek ve takdir edilmek istiyorsan kendini hiçliÄŸe indirgemen, sürüdeki diÄŸer koyanlardan ay?rt edilmez k?lman gerekir. DüÅŸ görebilirsin, ama herkesle ayn? düÅŸü görmek koÅŸuluyla.

Though I am a born American, though I became what is called an expatriate, I look upon the world not as a partisan of this country or that but as an inhabitant of the globe.

If you elect to join the herd you are immune. To be accepted and appreciated you must nullify yourself, make yourself indistinguishable from the herd. You may dream, if you dream alike. But if you dream something different, you are not in America, of America American, but a Hottentot in Africa, or a Kalmuck, or a chimpanzee. The moment you have a different thought you cease to be an American. And the moment you become something different you find yourself in Alaska or Easter Island or Iceland.

Everything American will disappear one day. More completely than that which was Greek, or Roman, or Egyptian. This is one of the ideas which pushed me outside the warm, comfortable bloodstream, where buffalos all, we once grazed in peace. An idea which has caused me infinite sorrow. For not to belong to something enduring is the last agony.

Zamans?z doÄŸmuÅŸ insanlar vard?r; ülkesiz, s?n?fs?z ve geleneksiz doÄŸmuÅŸ insanlar vard?r. YaÅŸam? tek ba??na sürdürmeyi seçenler deÄŸil tam olarak; sürgünler, gönüllü sürgünler. Bunlar her zaman da duygusal deÄŸildir: belirli bir ÅŸeye ait deÄŸillerdir yaln?zca - yani hiçbir yere ait deÄŸildirler.

One part of me is happy only in America, the other only in Europe. Without Americans, I would be very much at home in my country.

There was an immediate connection with the Bay Area from when I first came out years ago. Somehow, I always knew there would be. They embraced me as a sort of honorary San Franciscan for some reason.

As someone who is displaced - I left London almost fifteen years ago to make Connecticut my home - I am drawn to stories about people who don't belong, whether physically or emotionally, and who find their families of choice in their friends.

I'm an immigrant, a legal immigrant to the United States. I only became a citizen five years ago. Every day, for seven months, I pinched myself as I was walking in and out of the West Wing, so it's only in America, right? Only in America.

I haven't had a stationary home since going with the circus, but since my parents lived in Lafayette about 25 years ago and my sister lives here now, I always claim it as home.

But, finally, I just realized a few years ago that this is where I belonged. I mean everything I had was invested here, emotionally and every other way. And the country had invested enormously in me.

If half-black Barack Obama had decided years ago to call himself white - which his genes certainly entitled him to do - his story would have carried very different meaning. If millions of part-black people had followed him into whiteness, then the N.A.A.C.P. would be in true crisis.

The fact that I am a writer comes from the experience of being cut away from my roots and living in Venezuela, where I couldn't find a place for myself, for years and years.

I started off in England and very few people knew I was Australian. I mean, the clues were in the poems, but they didn't read them very carefully, and so for years and years I was considered completely part of the English poetry scene.

I grew up in a largely black community during the '70s and '80s that scoffed at 'white' music. That music - folk, rock, some disco - was considered soulless, aberrant, just one more example of the Caucasian's desire to scream and yell and demand whatever their privilege and perpetual adolescence dictated they should demand.