Quotes About Self-discovery

Do you have any idea who you have the capacity to become? If you were not bound by the confines of your mind, who might you become?

Actually, isn't that what we want to know—our purpose? Then we can use the power to become who we really are. Life has chiseled many of us into mere fragments of who we were meant to be. To all who receive Him, Christ gives the power to slip out of who they were forced into being so they can transform into the individual they each were created to be.

If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it — memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.

She had to find her own story, and she could make it whatever shape she thought best.

Just get up. What's your name, kid?" "G-man" "I don't mean your codename down at the Dickhead Club. What does it say on your driver's license?

Ever been in Jail? No. But I'm often alone.

The hunter that travels out into the woods is lost to the world, yet finds himself.

Fishermen who till now had known only servile submission, quite unexpectedly felt a tremendous force thrusting them forward. At first they were bewildered. Gradually they realized that their own power, whose presence they had not suspected, was manifesting itself. "But are we capable of making use of that power?" they wondered. Of course they were.

Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. —

Seek the still of prayer that you may know yourself and make order of what is required of you.

We need solitude, because when we're alone, we're free from obligations, we don't need to put on a show, and we can hear our own thoughts.

Once you have mates who know you, right down under the this-and-that you decide people want to see today, then there's no room left for the someday person who'll magic you into being all your finest dreams. You've turned solid:you're the person your mates know, forever.

If I had to get there without friends, I could do it. Had been doing it. I'd never met anyone who brought me somewhere I wanted to stay, looked at me and saw someone I wanted to be for good; anyone who was worth giving up the more I wanted down the line.

I think when you're kids, you're less . . . defined? Then you get older and you start deciding what kind of person you want to be, and it doesn't always match up with what your friends are turning into.

He feels that nineteen-year-olds, almost all of them, don't have their feet on the ground. They're turning loose from their families and they haven't found anything else to moor themselves to; they blow like tumbleweed. They're unknowns, to the people that used to know them inside out and to themselves.

If you let other people decide what you think about something like that, if you just follow along because it's trendy, then who are you? When the flock changes direction tomorrow, what, you just throw away everything you think and start over, because other people said so? Then what are you, underneath? You're nothing. You're no one.

She had had the sense and the guts to let go of her ruined old self and walk away so simply, start over again, start fresh and clean as morning.

He picked out a card, examined it, tucked it back. "The thing is, I suppose," he said, "that one gets into the habit of being oneself. It takes some great upheaval to crack that shell and force us to discover what else might be underneath." And looking up smiling, pushing his glasses up his nose: "And with all that philosophizing, I've forgotten whose go it was. Did I just put . . .

I'm not sure what exactly I did for those two years. A lot of the time, I think, nothing. I know this is one of the unthinkable taboos of our society, but I had discovered in myself a talent for a wonderful, unrepentant laziness, the kind most people never know after childhood.

years of observing from the outside (one gets into the habit of being oneself)—

Over my own dead body was I going to stake myself down somewhere, being someone, that didn't have all the beautiful I could cram into me.

The thing is (…) that one gets into the habit of being oneself. It takes some great upheaval to crack that shell and force us to discover what else might be underneath.

How else, except through being alone for a while, could you ever discover who you really are? But