Quotes About Identity

It's as though your life, on some measures, is validated by the amount of fucking and heartbreaking you have been involved in and also by the number of breasts and clitorises and cocks and inner thighs and mouths you have travelled intimately.

I'm also not sure exactly where and I when I got the language for who and what I am. I don't remember how I learned the words gay, homo(sexual), fag, queer, etc. I just seemed to have picked them up and undertsood what they meant.

Zachary me enjabonó entre las piernas explorándome como si fuera la primera vez, como si no me conociera de memoria. Yo alargué la mano hacia atrás. Él dijo Lacey anne. Le encanta susurrar mi nombre cuando lo tengo dentro, y esa es la única ocasión en la que disfruto de verdad al oírlo, porque es como si todas las cosas de mí misma que me gustan y todas las que detesto confluyeran, en cierto modo, y me siento desnuda y plena, nombrada y encontrada.

Compared to the you in my heart, the I in you is insignificant.

Clinging to one's outward appearance interferes with living.

A keener interest in trinkets of self-adornment than in people is a symptom of alienation.

love strips the mask from each of us, and we must endeavor for those we love to put the mask on so that it can be taken off again. For if there is no mask to start with, there is no pleasure in removing it, is there?

The change in the sand corresponded to a change in himself. Perhaps, along with the water in the sand, he had found a new self.

Lost in the crowd, it's all right to pretend for a moment to be no one.

Lo que tú necesitas no soy yo: seguro que es un espejo. Pues cualquier otro que no seas tú no pasa de ser, para ti, más que un espejo en donde reflejarte. Yo, desde luego, no tengo el propósito de volver a un desierto de espejos como ese

I only asked the mask to help me recover … I never once asked it to do things its own way.…

A strange thing the face. I never felt anything about it at any given time, but when i found i didn't have one, I felt as if half the world had been torn away from me

I can hardly believe that the face is so important to a man's existence. A man's worth should be gauged by the content of his work; possibly the convolutions of the surface of the brain have something to do with it, but his face certainly does not. If the loss of a face can cause conspicuous change in the scale of evaluation, it may well be owing to a fundamental emptiness of content.

Who could imagine that one could be so ridiculed, so humiliated by oneself?

Lo que llamamos amor es en realidad jugar a arrancarnos mutuamente las máscaras; y, con tal fin, es imprescindible esforzarse en llevar tal máscara, por el bien de la persona amada. Se sigue de ahí que si no hay máscara, tampoco existe el placer de arrancarla

Cuestiones como «Amor al Pueblo» y la obligación social sólo tienen sentido si uno pierde algo cuando se desentiende de ellas... ¿Pero qué diablos tenía ella que perder?

InocenÅ£a ei feminin? îl preschimbase într-un duÅŸman.

I had a terribly bad aftertaste. Just making my face look as if it were new, with my memories and my habits unchanged, was quite like dipping up water with a bottomless dipper. Since I had put a mask over my face, I needed one that would fit my heart. If possible, I wanted to be so perfect in my inventions and my acting as to be undetectable even by a lie detector.

Fiecare îÅŸi are propria lui filosofie, care nu i se potriveÅŸte decît lui.

Why did one have to put up a hue and cry about anything so trifling as the skin on one's face, which, after all, was only a small part of the human capsule? ... While such a situation would be understandable in a pimply adolescent who lives in visions, it was ridiculous for me, the section head of a respectable laboratory, moored securely to this world by an anchor-like weight, to be afflicted by psychological hives.

If I made nothing of it, then surely no one else would either. ... To accustom others to my face was the best short cut to getting used to it myself.

I can hardly believe that the face is so important to a man's existence. A man's worth should be gauged by the content of his work; possibly the convolutions of the surface of the brain have something to do with it, but his face certainly does not. If the loss of a face can cause conspicuous change in the scale of evaluation, it may well be owing to a fundamental emptiness of content.

I stuck a cigarette through the slit in the bandage and asked myself with a nervous fidget what I had lost along with my face.

The fact has been made clear that your face—the mobile, harmonious type—was a mask too. In short, we are two spots of the same ink. It was not solely my responsibility.