Quotes About Identity

the shaved pubic area is meant to look preadolescent. It denotes a preadolescent disregard for the potency of sex in regard to emotionalism, romanticism, etc. Pubic hair paradoxically doesn't protect the sex organ but extends it; it is a quite sensitive part of it.

Each of us becomes a new person as we redescribe the past.

My mom is in the navy and my dad works for the army, but I never called them 'sir' or 'ma'am' or anything like that, and we never really moved around a lot because both my parents were stationed in D.C.

Purpose of Life: Understand Who You Are Believe In Yourself.

China's official identity is a multiethnic state where all peoples, beliefs, and traditions are equally respected. The problem with this story is that Han Chinese run the country and it is their values, their dreams, and their traditions that define the national vision—not China's fifty-five other ethnic groups. Coming

That the notion of 'national community' gained its definition by those it excluded from it...

There are many things that people do happily that I can't imagine why they would do it... But I have to say that even though I am critical or judgmental of society at large, I'm not critical of people individually. We are who we are.

I don't dismiss the music that I was involved with, I don't think it was a joke, I don't think it was funny or a phase, I don't think it was just something I was doing back then, to me it was who I am. It connects all the way through. I don't distance myself from any of it.

Najia can feel yts subdermal activators against her forearm. Not man not woman not both not neither. Nute. Another way of being human, speaking a phsyical language she does not understand. More alien to her than any man, any father, yet this body next to hers is loyal, tough, funny courageous, clever, kind, sensual, vulnerable. Sweet. Sexy. All you could wish in a friend of the soul. Or a lover.

The implants just give you a new set of reproductive-free imperatives, that's all. The rest, thank the gods, is up to you. They wouldn't be worth anything if they didn't give rise to the most troubling and complex problems of the heart. They are what makes all this glory, this madness worthwhile. We are born to the trouble as sparks fly upwards, that is what is great about us, man, woman, transgen, nute.

Where Grissom Bunt, Category Twelve PainCriminal, whoever he was, had gone. From which Grissom Bunt would never emerge again. Not as Grissom Bunt. She pictured a shaved naked skull crisscrossed with blue-ridged suture lines, heard a voice saying, "I wouldn't hurt a fly, I wouldn't, I wouldn't, I wouldn't

they were triplets and as mutually indistinguishable as peas in a pod or days in a prison.

Place becomes psyche, story becomes history.

All separate, independent nation states bristling behind borders one centimeter greater than the surface area of their skins. Never talking. Never ever talking: privacy infringement, caste-breaking, SoulCrime, PainCrime, help! call the Love Police!

Names were the nails of history. Things were, had been, would be because they had names to guide them through time. Without a name he had no time-boundedness. Therefore he must have a name. But everything was already named, and all names were assigned. He would have to steal one.

Uniquely, he understood what his days with BeeJee &ersenn had been teaching him: he, alone, was the alien.

And so he took a name. From the unbelievable towers of light he took a name he felt was worthy of his massive uniqueness. "Kilimanjaro West," he said. The stolen name fit well. "I am Kilimanjaro West.

onward he went, a named thing, rooted in the universe, yet apart from it, through the night and the rain-dancing streets.

Now that he knew that he was, that he existed to celebrate his existence, he looked with delight and fascination at every all-night hot-food stall, every neon welcome to a caste bar or club, every vagrant waft of steam from the pneumatique ventilators, every puddle of yellow streetlight, every rain-slick cobble, because in the continued existence of those other things he saw his own being reflected.

My name is Kilimanjaro West," he said, and something in the way he spoke that name made the crowded 'lectrovan fall electrically quiet. "Pleased to meet you all.

in the continued existence of those other things he saw his own being reflected.

So many names in this … "place.

And the names drew about themselves a nimbus of quality, of good and bad and color and weight and hardness, a state of existence to come, a state of existence that was and a state of existence that had been.

All things. Except himself. He had only present. There was no past to direct him toward a future. There was no remembering of a time before. Before?