Quotes About Self

He did not want to feel old. He did not want to feel the weight of his age hovering above him, mocking him out of the core of a man's pride, waiting to descend upon his mind and body.

A man's ethnic identity has more to do with a personal awareness than with geography.

I have an idea that most of all he is running away from love, because it's too big and too demanding. He's running away from us--from you, from me, from his sister, from himself, too. Who wants to be himself, who wants to be so little, and so captured and limited?

I don't have a name and I don't have a plot. I have the typewriter and I have white paper and I have me, and that should add up to a novel. (- Saroyan, when once asked the name of his next book.)

I am an estranged man, said the liar: estranged from myself, from my family, my fellow man, my country, my world, my time, and my culture. I am not estranged from God, although I am a disbeliever in everything about God excepting God indefinable, inside all and careless of all.

Presume not that I am the thing I was; For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, That I have turn'd away my former self; So will I those that kept me company.

Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.

If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here;

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

La culpa, no está en nuestras estrellas, sino en nosotros mismos, que consentimos en ser inferiores.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of the perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? DOCTOR: Therein the patient Must minister to himself.

Virtue? A fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.

He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get. I to the world am like a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop, Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: So I, to find a mother and a brother, In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.

Why did you wish me milder? would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am.

Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life.

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Make not your thoughts your prisons.