Quotes About Self

In fact, he had become an it, and those of us who knew him noted how poorly itness suited him, his pale demeanor resembling nothing he'd been.

so many people walk up to me and tell me they're dead, though they're just describing their afternoons.

A man's mistakes (if I may lecture you), his worst acts, aren't out of character, as he'd like to think, are not put on him by power or stress or too much to drink, but simply a worse self he consents to be.

We keep our insignificant blemishes so that we can blame them for our larger defects.

I was born Mary Patterson, but then I married and naturally took my husband's name, so now I'm Neil Patterson.

The tribal belonging, the sexual association, the sense of party – these are what popular music offer, and they have always been exclusion zones for me. Partly because of my musical constipation – can't dance, can't join in the chorus – partly because of my sense of physical self, feeling a fool, tall, uncoordinated and gangly.

Am I the same person i was fifty years ago? Every molecule and cell of my body has been replaced many times over.

Since my earliest years I felt nothing but shame for the useless casing of flesh I inhabit.

Myth can be a kind of human algebra, which makes it easier to manipulate truth about ourselves.

Things are as they are because we are

El pasado nos dice quién somos; sin él, perdemos nuestra identidad.

Ne olduÄŸumuzu geçmiÅŸimiz söyler; o olmadan kimliÄŸimizi kaybederiz.

self-deception as the preliminary to public deception is almost automatic. —WALTER LIPPMANN

It was easier to be brave when you were someone else.

A person's memory is everything, really. Memory is identity. It's you.

It was so simple, but it was a revelation: what you did for yourself was what gave you the power.

No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just Ã¢â'¬Â¦ come out the other side. Or you don't.

Some werewolves are hairy on the inside.

De un extraño te puedes apartar, pero de ti mismo no.

He thinks writing is also a kind of war, one you fight with yourself. The story is what you carry and every time you add to it, it gets heavier.

The universe is large, he thought. It contains multitudes. It also contains me, and in this moment I am wonderful. I have a right to be wonderful.

Feeling it, trying to understand the suns that shone on it, the rains that fell on it, and the snows that covered it. And to wonder where I was when each thing happened to it in its lonely place, where I was, what I was doing, who I was loving, how I was getting along, where I was. I'd hold it, read it, feel it... and look at my own face in whatever reflection might be left.

Clear communication between selves - the surface self and the deep self - is the enemy of self-doubt. It slays confusion.

And what makes you think you're a main character in anything but your own mind?