Quotes About Belonging

Home is not a place, but the people you choose to love.

If you're feeling insecure and you need to feel special, the best place to go is somewhere foreign where people treat you as special because you're different.

I can't move back to England. My home is in France now. I'd love to but I can't. My family's all there now.

Mag sein, daß die Leute sagen werden, ich bleibe daheim, um mich nicht von den dunklen Augen Ninos trennen zu müssen. Mag sein. Vielleicht haben diese Menschen auch recht. Denn diese dunklen Augen sind für mich wie die heimatliche Erde, wie der Ruf der Heimat nach ihrem Sohn, den ein Fremder auf fremde Wege verleiten will. Ich bleibe, um die dunklen Augen der Heimat vor dem Unsichtbaren zu schützen.

I was tired of pretending that I was someone else just to get along with people, just for the sake of having friendships.

I mean I like to be passionate and sincere but I also like to have fun and act like a dork. Geeks unite.

Still and all, why bother? Here's my answer. Many people need desperately to receive this message: I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people do not care about them. You are not alone.

What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.

Orphans The word seems sad when you say it. An orphan is like a soul bulb waiting to be planted in just the right place. When you're an orphan, you no longer belong, but a child is a child of everyone, they belong to a community, to a greater garden, she says.

Identities can be held together by narratives, in short, without essences: you don't get to be called "English" because there's an essence this label follows; you're English because our rules determine that you are entitled to the label—that you are connected in the right way with a place called England.

This view is an instance of what my friend Skip Gates has called "cultural geneticism,"80 It has, in Bertrand Russell's wicked phrase, "the virtues of theft over honest toil." On this view, you earn rights to culture that is marked with the mark of your race— or your nation—simply by having a racial identity.

the assertion of an identity always proceeds through contrast or opposition;

Jag vill hävda att det inte finns några naturliga gränser för det folk man anser sig vara en del av.

Att vara ett folk är inte bara en fråga om hur man ser på sig själv . Vad andra utanför gruppen tycker är också viktigt. Identitet, som vi lärde oss i det första kapitlet, är en överenskommelse mellan insiders och outsiders.

I enjoy my relationship with straight men. It's very nurturing. It's very validating to hang out with straight guys and be accepted. So many of us, we were not accepted when we were younger by straight persons in high school.

No, I'm telling you that you're the only thing on this earth that has made me feel connected to what's here. When I'm with you, I know what's real. I can feel it, touch it. When I'm with you, I'm something more than . . . other. When I'm not with you, my head's in the stars.

She feels lonely all the time, she wants to be accepted, by anyone, on any terms, but she feels apart. As if nobody who really got to know her would trust her.

to be Hungarian is not to belong to a people, but instead it's an illness, an incurable, frightening disease, a misfortune of epidemic proportions that could overcome every single observer with nausea

There is no place like home.

No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home.

When she got control of herself a few minutes later, she realized that in his arms she felt almost what she had in her dream, that inexpressible sense of peace and security. Of belonging, utterly. As long as her soulmate was alive, and they were together, she would be all right.

To touch him in ways he'd never been touched before, this person who, beyond all logic, was the other half of her. Who belonged to her. Who was her soulmate.

And then it was all happening, what had started to happen at least twice before. Feelings so sweet and strong she could hardly bear it. Strange recognition, unexpected belonging…impossible knowing…

Right now everything looks so strange to me, as if I don't belong here. It's me that's out of place. And the worst thing is that I feel there's somewhere I do belong, but I just can't find it.