Quotes About Identity

Money doesn't determine worth.

Other People's Perfection is a facade we create when we are second guessing ourselves.....Sara to Amanda

I've been called worse," he assures me, "and perhaps I am guilty as charged. I guess it depends on who is defining what constitutes a lady's man." The statement strikes me as true beyond its intention. How many of us allow others to define us and thus we become what they want us to be, not what we should be or could be?

They don't get to tell you who I am." His voice is a rough growl, low and tight. "I do. I tell you and I show you, so you get the truth—not their fabrication of it." A muscle in his jaw flexes. "Understand?

The ability to become a person of our own making is the perfect lie. I concede that it might appear that some

You can embrace who you really are, and we can be whoever we want to be together.

I do not know what to do with the emotions inside me. I do not know how to be this close to someone and still hold on to myself.

it should be, but you're still hesitating. Why?" "I'm afraid of losing who I am, and being only what he lets me be.

This is who I am, Sara. I will protect you from everything and everyone else, but I can't protect you from who I am or who we will be if you stay with me.

What are you thanking me for?" "For being you, and it doesn't mater what name anyone calls you. I love you." His lips quirk."But I like how Amy Stone sounds. I like it alot.

You use arrogance and control to hide the real you. But I've seen you. I know you.

He is an addiction, and addictions are never good for you. He's taking me deeper into his world, deeper into his dark desires, but I'm never able to get behind the physical aspect of our relationship. I just lose more of who I am.

Husband," she said and her lips curved, before she grinned. "Since we can't wear wedding rings and still shift, do I get my fur lined cuffs instead?

You can embrace who you really are, and we can be whoever we want to be together." My gut clenches at the reference to the way my

No place is home. People are home.

her, she's become such a part of my life that no matter how I fight it, or her, she's in my blood—a part of why I exist. Yet so is Rebecca. I don't understand it, and I do not like things that I don't understand.

want the lies to end. I pull my gun from my purse and point it at him. "Who are you to me, Kayden? Who am I?" from Denial

unreadable. "I've always said my mother is the biggest bitch on the hill, and the kindest flower in the garden.

I'm Aria Alard," I say, speaking my mother's maiden name

No one here has to know who I really am. Ever. They can never know. We disappeared with my father, our historic bloodline ended forever.

following the movement of thinking, a woman escapes the confinement of identity, moving into the open of language. The most temporary membranes serve as shelter. Amongst these membranes, speaking begins, plays its tenuous continuities near and in spite of the accreted institutions that compel anyone to obey, violate and buy, to be situated by identity's grid. But

Reading unfolds like a game called 'I,' in public gardens in good weather, in a series of worn-down hotel rooms, in museums in winter, where 'I' is the composite figure who is going to write but hasn't yet.

I felt the sadness thoroughly. I believed it then. I wrote the sadness in my diary, I drank the sadness in my room or in cafés, I fucked the sadness. I almost believed I was the sadness.

Do you ever wish to quit the daily comedy of transforming into the I-speaker without abandoning the wilderness of sensing? The sensation isn't morbid; it is ultimately disinterested.