Quotes About Identity

And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale any more.

Ah . . . ! What's happening? it thought. Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Calm down, get a grip now . . . oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it?

His name was Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. He was a man with a purpose. Not a very good purpose, as he would have been the first to admit, but it was at least a purpose and it did keep him on the move.

He was rather disappointed to discover her name was Fenny. It was a rather silly, dispiriting name, such as an unlovely maiden aunt might vote herself if she couldn't sustain the name Fenella properly.

Any time you see a film or TV show or a commercial that features someone dressed up as an animal, it's probably Todd inside. "I was in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," he told me. "Guess," he added, "which one I was.

Come,' called the old man, 'come now or you will be late.' 'Late?' said Arthur. 'What for?' 'What is your name, human?' 'Dent. Arthur Dent,' said Arthur. 'Late, as in the late Dentarthurdent,' said the old man, sternly. 'It's a sort of threat you see.

My name?' said the old man, and the same distant sadness came into his face again. He paused. 'My name,' he said, '. . . is Slartibartfast.' Arthur practically choked. 'I beg your pardon?' he spluttered. 'Slartibartfast,' repeated the old man quietly. 'Slartibartfast?' The old man looked at him gravely. 'I said it wasn't important,' he said.

But naturally my shoulder, sir,' mooed the animal contentedly, 'nobody else's is mine to offer.

There were so many different ways in which you were required to provide absolute proof of your identity these days that life could easily become extremely tiresome just from that factor alone, never mind the deeper existential problems of trying to function as a coherent consciousness in an epistemologically ambiguous physical universe.

He's just this guy, you know?

He experienced one of those "self" moments, one of those moments when you suddenly turn around and look at yourself and think "Who am I? What am I up to? What have I achieved? Am I doing well?" He whimpered very slightly.

Try and understand his problem,' insisted Ford. 'Here he is, poor lad, his entire life's work is stamping around, throwing people off spaceships . . .' 'And shouting,' added the guard. 'And shouting, sure,' said Ford patting the blubbery arm clamped round his neck in friendly condescension, '. . . and he doesn't even know why he's doing it!

Poor Arthur, you're not really cut out for this life, are you?" "You call this life?" "You're beginning to sound like Marvin." "Marvin's the clearest thinker I know.

My name,' he said, '. . . is Slartibartfast.

If I ever meet myself," said Zaphod, "I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me." Marvin

What are you, crazy?' 'It's a possibility I haven't ruled out yet,' said Zaphod quietly. 'I only know as much about myself as my mind can work out under its current conditions. And its current conditions are not good.

And you saw yourself, said Gargravarr, in relation to it all? Oh, yeah yeah. But...what did you experience? Zaphod shrugged smugly. It just told me what I knew all the time. I'm a really terrific and great guy. Didn't I tell you, baby, I'm Zaphod Beeblebrox!

Why am I here? What's my purpose in life?

I'm just this guy, y'know

Because … because … I think it might be because if I knew I wouldn't be able to look for them." "What, are you crazy?" "It's a possibility I haven't ruled out yet," said Zaphod quietly. "I only know as much about myself as my mind can work out under its current conditions. And its current conditions are not good.

Two places away to the left was the don who had been Richard's Director of Studies in English, who showed no signs of recognising him at all. This was hardly surprising since Richard had spent his three years here assiduously avoiding him, often to the extent of growing a beard and pretending to be someone else.

My name is not important

What . . . do . . . you . . . want?' 'I'm looking for someone.' 'Who?' hissed the insect. 'Zaphod Beeblebrox,' said Marvin, 'he's over there.' The insect shook with rage. It could hardly speak. 'Then why did you ask me?' it screamed. 'I just wanted something to talk to,' said Marvin. 'What!' 'Pathetic, isn't it?

Ford," he said, "you're turning into a penguin. Stop it.