Quotes About Identity

A menudo me he preguntado si mi pasado es la razón por la que soy como soy, si eso me ha convertido en un monstruo.

Father, I am what you made me. I've become your daughter after all.

I know I shouldn't love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same

Jude, you can't really think I don't know it's you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh.

Kaye wondered if everyone felt like there was a monster underneath their skin. It was obvious that the relief wasn't the largest part of what he felt. It was obvious that he was in pain, that he'd been crying. And yet it was what he was dwelling on, an imperfect mourning.

These clothes are a costume for me. I am playing dress-up in ignorance

You think because you've got that good royal blood in you, you're better than us,' says the ogre, pressing one long fingernail against the prince's shoulder. 'Maybe you are. Only way to be sure is to have a taste.' There's a drunken wobble to Oak's movements as he pushes off the ogre's hand and obvious contempt in his voice. 'The difference in flavour would be too subtle for your palate.

What has changed? Is he different because I have forced him to be? Is it because he is away from Balekin? Or is he no different at all and I am only seeing what I want to see?

It doesn't make me like him any better, but for the first time he seems real. Not good, but real.

I am no Court lady with lips of carmine and butterflies in my hair. I am scrawny, like a stick bug.

He is wearing his golden armour again, the boy who'd been my friend disappearing into a man I don't know.

When I wipe off a silver mirror with my hand and see myself dressed in a dead faerie's clothes, a shudder goes through me. Suddenly, I do not know why I am here in this place. I am not sure of Locke's intentions.

At least Oak would not grow up as I have, with death as my birthright

On this side of the grave we are exiles, on that citizens. —Henry Ward Beecher

That's not how I'd thought of myself, as a runaway. I was someone with nowhere to go. Waiting until I was older. Or less afraid. Or more powerful.

I don't want to be a creature, shaped by their hands and quickened with their blood. Something made like a doll, from snow and sticks. An assemblage of parts, stranger even than the sluagh.

She is a mirror, reflecting someone I could have been but am not.

You're no killer.' He has no idea what I am. Maybe I don't know, either. Maybe I never let myself find out.

I taught myself to call them unmother and unfather. I keep the habit to remind myself of what they were to me, and what they will never be again. Remind myself that there is nowhere that I belong and no one to whom I belong.

Lucy- "Wow, no one ever fights over me." Justin- "My multiple personalities fight over you constantly. There is a war going on inside me." Rue- "This is for the war going on outside.

Sometimes it seemed as though all her life was already used up in that dark basement, as if her mother's mouth on Tana's arm was the last thing in her life before this that had felt real. Everything else was just prologue and epilogue.

Am I beautiful like you are?" I ask Nicasia, genuinely curious. "No," she says, darting a look toward Valerian. She picks up something from the ground. "You are nothing like us.

Do you think he will protect you now? You're useless. The heir to Elfhame has no reason to spend any further time with an untutored savage of a girl. But think, you wouldn't remember him. You wouldn't even have to remember yourself.' 'I'm not half as practical as you suppose,' Oak says. 'I like many useless things. I've been called useless myself from time to time.

You think I'm weak." "You are weak," I tell her. "You're weak and pathetic and I-" "I'm a mirror," she shouts. "I'm the mirror you don't want to look at.