Quotes About Identity

citizens of the pale

The "Extranational" Age Ahead As the era of the "Sovereign Individual" takes shape, many of the ablest people will cease to think of themselves as party to a nation, as "British" or "American" or "Canadian."' A new "transnational" or "extranational" understanding of the world and a new way of identifying one's place in it await discovery in the new millennium.

He whipped out his sheet, then pulled it over himself and wrapped it tightly around his face like an old woman in a shawl. 'How do I look?' 'Like the ugliest shanky girl I've ever seen,' Minho responded. 'You better thank the gods above you were born a dude.' 'Thanks.

It was her. It was Teresa.

Thomas swallowed, wondering how he could ever go out there. His desire to become a Runner had taken a major blow. But he had to do it. Somehow he KNEW he had to do it. It was such an odd thing to feel, especially after what he'd just seen... Thomas knew he was a smart kid- he somehow felt it in his bones. But nothing about this place made any sense. Except for one thing. He was supposed to be a Runner. Why did he feel that so strongly? And even now, after seeing what lived in the maze?

He felt empty and lost like he didn't belong anywhere.

Who knows the true definition of real?

Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything. "There's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We're valuable. Alive, not dead." The anger on Jorge's face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What's a shank?

My name is Kaine,' it said. 'And I see all.

I like how you call me Tom." Teresa rolled her eyes. "That's your name, isn't it?" "Yeah, but most people call me Thomas. Well, except Newt – he calls me Tommy. Tom makes me feel … like I'm at home or something. Even though I don't know what home is." He let out a bitter laugh. "Are we messed up or what?

Hey, I'm Newt," the boy whispered. "And I know bloody well who you are.

You're not … her." His voice, distant. A mere echo. "You could never be her.

You're Subject A-two," Newt answered. Then he lowered his eyes "And?" Thomas pushed. Newt hesitated, then answered without looking at him. "It doesn't call you anything. It just says . . . 'To be killed by Group B.

For some reason, he was different from everyone else in the Glade. He felt like he'd lived an entire lifetime since awakening from his memory wipe, but he'd only been there a week.

I know you," Gally added without looking back. "I saw you in the Changing, and I'm gonna figure out who you are.

He's right it does not matter anymore because the people we were before the maze they don't even exist anymore what does matter is who we are now and what we do right now

I'm programmed so that only you two can see my old Aura. Everyone else sees an entirely different guy. Boom. Amazing, I know.

He's not learning. He's not experiencing. He's remembering. He walks to the next screen, hungry to be himself again.

We are our thoughts and memories and personalities.

Frypan has no reason to process or think too deeply about the returning memories. They're not like new revelations, things to which he should respond somehow. They've always been there, inside him. He has already reactedto them. He has been shaped by them. He's not learning. He's not experiencing. He's remembering.

he had no ears.

Well, except Newt – he calls me Tommy.

Though the window to his past was caked with grime, revealing little more than splotchy glimpses, he knew he'd worked with WICKED.

Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. My name is Stephen.