Quotes About Self-discovery

My prose has no individual style as such, but is rather an unspoken and still unexpressed groping toward the personal. There is something there that wants to come out; something of my own that must be said. Yet, perhaps, words are not the way for me.

Who am I? The sum of your dreams, the thrill you refuse to grasp, the unknown you fear.

definition. How can she not see that when you are defined, you lose the ability to define yourself?

When, she wonders, did she stop being a child? The law says it was when she turned eighteen, but the law doesn't know her.

We do, you know. Find ourselves. Although it's a little harder each time. Days pass. Weeks. Then we squeeze ourselves back into the skin of who we were before all this. We put the pieces back together and get on with things.

Ain't no one gonna tell you what's in your heart, he tells Lev. You gotta find that out for yourself.

He would have to adjust to a life without her, as well as a life without himself, for who was he now?

I guess once you start parting with all the things you think hold your life together, it's hard to stop—and then you find out your life holds together all by itself.

This, I know, is a rabbit hole down which only darkness lies, and yet, down it I must dive, into the parts of my own backbrain that not even I know exist...

I find your shallowness both refreshing and disappointing at the same time. Do you think that means I need therapy?

You'll find your own path. It may not bring you redemption, it might not even bring you peace, but it will keep you from despising yourself.

My real name is Shawn Dobson. Will you call me that, Rowan? Will you call me by my real name?

You'll find your own path. It may not bring you redemption, it might not even bring you peace, but it will keep you from despising yourself.

Don't you see, Lev? you can save yourself. You can be anyone you want to be now.

You can be anyone you want to be now...

Para no ser esclavos y mártires del Tiempo, embriagaos, embriagaos sin cesar. De vino, de poesía o de virtud; de lo que queráis.

But my whole life has been a matter of fighting for one simple hour to do what I want to do. There was always something getting in the way of my getting to myself.

And there I was, 225 pounds, perpetually lost and confused, short legs, ape-like upper body, all chest, no neck, head too large, blurred eyes, hair uncombed, 6 feet of geek, waiting for her.

It was the first time i had been alone for five days. I was a man who thrived on solitude; without it I was like another man without food or water. Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.

A man could lose his identity fucking around too much.

You get so alone at times that it just makes sense.

Do some living and get yourself a typewriter.

Drink from the well of yourself and begin again.

being alone you decided, was a magnificent miracle. nothing else made any sense at all. —escape