Quotes About Self-expression

Wearing heels is no joke.

I always joke that I'm a feminist with a boob job.

I love my jokes.

When I tell a joke, I don't think about who's listening to it. I tell the jokes I think are funny.

What sucked was that her room was on the fourth floor of a four-story house because she hated walking past every other room on her way in and out. She was like a latter-day Rapunzel except her hair was only a few inches below her shoulders, slightly fried, not all that blond, and furthermore, who the hell was ever going to climb up to give her a hand? The guy in the wheelchair from school? What she — and Rapunzel, frankly — needed was a decent ladder.

Renny was smarter and funnier and more original than they'd ever be, but he was thirteen. He was at the brutal age when many kids would sell all their uniqueness in their character for the right pair of shoes.

She was secure in the armour of her anonymity. Even if he did kiss her again, as he probably would, the person whom he kissed would be an imaginary person, a creature whom she had invented for her own amusement, not herself.

Instead of being a time of unusual behavior, Christmas is perhaps the only time in the year when people can obey their natural impulses and express their true sentiments without feeling self-conscious and, perhaps, foolish. Christmas, in short, is about the only chance a man has to be himself.

Do not wish to be anything except what you are.

Y porque no lo tengan por maricón, ahaje ese cuello y agobie de espaldas; la capa caída, que siempre nosotros andamos de capa caída; ese hocico, de tornillo: gestos a un lado y a otro; y haga vucé de las g, h y de las h, g. Diga conmigo: gerida, mogino, jumo, pahería, mohar, habalí y harro de vino.

Autobiographia Literaria" When I was a child I played by myself in a corner of the schoolyard all alone. I hated dolls and I hated games, animals were not friendly and birds flew away. If anyone was looking for me I hid behind a tree and cried out "I am an orphan." And here I am, the center of all beauty! writing these poems! Imagine!

If anyone was lookingfor me I hid behind atree and cried out "I aman orphan."And here I am, thecenter of all beauty!writing these poems!Imagine!

When you say 'I want to fit in,' you are essentially volunteering yourself as a victim, and when the thing you want to fit in with is 'society' - well, as 'society' is just another word for government, you're basically begging the government to control you and use you as it wishes for its nefarious purposes, which can be pretty damn nefarious, if 'nefarious' means what I believe it does.

Don't hide your scars. They make you who you are

For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself then he has naught Not to say the things that he truly feels And not the words of someone who kneels Let the record show I took all the blows and did it my way.

If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it.

I never set out to be weird. It was always other people who called me weird.

Acting classes, I guess, are good and I would like to maybe sometime take one. But I would feel like I was learning someone else's technique. I like mine.

My own mask stayed just where it ought. I've had lots of practice.

I deserved a holiday, and I deserved to dispense with the laces and trusses expected of a clergyman's daughter. I wore my oldest frock, which looked remarkably like a potato sack, and I wore very little beneath. I should never have imagined how lovely that feels. It's most freeing, and it gives you the delicious sense you're on your way to moral degeneracy. I shall soon be painting my lips and drinking gin.

I should constantly remind myself that the real leap consists in introducing invention into existence. In the world in which I travel, I am endlessly creating myself. And it is by going beyond the historical, instrumental hypothesis that I will initiate my cycle of freedom.

Dernièrement, un camarade nous racontait cette histoire. Un Martiniquais arrivant au Havre entre dans un café. Avec une parfaite assurance, il lance : « Garrrçon ! un vè de biè. » Nous assistons là à une véritable intoxication. Soucieux de ne pas répondre à l'image du nègre-mangeant-les-R, il en avait fait une bonne provision, mais il n'a pas su répartir son effort.

In the World through which I travel, I am endlessly creating myself.

I began to write again. I wrote just for the fuck of it.