Quotes About Self-expression

It's okay, you can do it. Because I am playing with myself as I write this, I hope you're doing the same as you read it. Otherwise there's not much point. Go ahead. Don't be shy or modest, prudish or self-conscious. That's it. It feels nice, doesn't it?

Oh I know what they say about us in town, and I say, the hell with them! I tell you, I don't give a damn. I have got to be an old woman in the twinkling of an eye, and it is sort of a relief, I can tell you. I do what I want to now. Last week I traded all our eggs for ice cream at Holden's Grocery. Now that I have shrunk down little as a child, I figure I might as well act like one. I don't care. I like ice cream. Juney does too. We like to put bourbon in it, and make ourselves a milkshake.

Parades always made me cringe—the sight of so many people lockstepping along, chests out, elbows pumping, seemed to denote an unearned pride or a humiliating need for attention. I have generally found something else to do, if any parades were nearby.

Your own species ends up with a name like that when you get to choose it

The greatest task of a human being, your greatest mission in life? To find and sing your own song … to the glory of God.

Atunci când o persoan? investeÈ™te inconÈ™tient È™i în mod excesiv energie, timp È™i atenÈ›ie într-o tr?s?tur? de caracter dominant?, acea tr?s?tur? devine centrul personalit??ii ei, iar masca È™i persoana devin una È™i aceeaÈ™i.

Who was I now—woman or man? That question could never be answered as long as those were the only choices; it could never be answered if it had to be asked.

Oh, Ruth. I wish we had our own words to describe ourselves, to connect us." Ruth stood up and opened the broiler. "I don't need another label," she sighed. "I just am what I am. I call myself Ruth. My mother is Ruth Anne; my grandmother was Anne. That's who I am. That's where I come from." I shrugged. "I don't want another label either. I just wish we had words so pretty we'd go out of our way to say them out loud.

Y no pienso hacer caso de las palabras de los mayores cuando digan: Anda, querida, sube..., te estamos esperando! Yo los miraré desafiante desde abajo y les diré: Antes decidme quién soy, y si me gusta esa persona, entonces subiré, pero si no me gusta me quedaré aquí y esperaré a convertirme en otra persona.

Tu cara es idéntica a la de los demás…, ahí, un par de ojos… (señalando su lugar en el aire con el pulgar), la nariz, en el medio, la boca debajo. Siempre igual. En cambio, si tuvieras los dos ojos del mismo lado de la cara, por ejemplo…, o la boca en la frente…, eso sí que sería diferente.

But...you could have whatever you wished. Exactly, he says, nuzzling my neck. But, I say, you could turn stones to rubies or ride in a fine gentleman's carriage. Kartik puts his hands on either side of my face. To each his own magic, he says and kisses me again.

I am no longer content to be the scared, obedient schoolgirl. Who are you, a stranger, to tell me what I can and cannot do?

How can my ankles and arms be obscene?

What makes a girl a girl? What makes a guy a guy? Do you have to be what they want you to be? Or do you stop and listen to that voice inside you? I know who I am. I'm Petra West. And I'm a girl. You want me to sleep somewhere else, fine. Whatever. But I'm not going to pretend to be somebody I'm not. I've done enough of that.

Please, I'm a transgender former boy-bander. You think I don't know how to defend myself?

Nobody Wants to be themselves. That's why there's tv. -Ephigenia

Adina sat up. "It's denigrating and objectifying." "No. It's eye shadow and lipstick and sex and mystery and magic and transformation and fun. And nobody's taking that away from me. You will pry my Petal Power lip gloss out of my cold, dead hands," Shanti insisted.

It's as if I've inherited a skin I cannot quite fit, and so I walk about constantly pulling and and tugging, pinning and pruning, trying desperately to fill it out, hoping that no one will look at me struggling and say, 'That one there- she's a fraud, Look how she doesn't fit at all.

And sometimes I just don't want to sparkle.

I am not asking you to understand, Papa. I'm asking for you to accept. Accept what? Me. Accept me, Papa. My decision to live my own life as I see fit. It is so quiet that I suddenly wish I could take it back. Sorry, it was only a terrible joke. I should like a new dress, please.

Did they find something wanting in you, Gemma, at the party? You didn't speak too freely or behave…strangely?" I grew claws and bayed at the moon. I confessed that I eat the hearts of small children. I told them I like the French.

Life is too short not to be who you are

No one had ever said anything like that to Evie. Her parents always wanted to advise or instruct or command. They were good people, but they needed the world to bend to them, to fit into their order of things. Evie had never really quite fit, and when she tried, she'd just pop back out, like a doll squeezed into a too-small box.

I should like to make my mark. To venture opinions that may not be polite or even correct but are mine nonetheless. If I am to be hanged for anything, I should like to feel that I go to the gallows on my own strength.