Quotes About Identity

You like the way I dress The way I wear my hair Show me off to all your friends Baby, I don't care Just as long as you tell them who I am Tell them I'm the one that made you give a damn

People used to believe their life--or at least their life as a performer--was over at 28 or some ungodly age! God, when I think of myself back then, I had no idea who I was. I think I'm barely getting that under control now.

I don't regret what I've been through. I've had ups and downs, super highs and some really low lows. I've been so blessed that I could never say, "I wish this didn't happen." It's part of who I am.

But I might—" he bit out. "Tell me you're not a fucking virgin." "No, I'm not a fucking virgin. Virgins have yet to fuck, remember?

All one's personality is embedded in gloves and hats after they've been good and used. Show me a glove and I'll tell you the character of its owner.

My poetry is a game. My life is a game. But I am not a game.

I am the Love that dare not speak its name.

A celebrity is one who is known to many persons he is glad he doesn't know.

I hate the phrase "former porn queen." That part of my life was a long time ago. Think of something else to call me.

I know a rancher like you down below Hell's Canyon. He runs about six cows and five thousand sheep. But he calls himself a cattleman.

Without question, his picture did not do him justice, but again, he was dead when it was taken

Cherokee's American, Ned. It don't get more American than that.

Are you sharing content to appear stronger or are you sharing content to present your authentic strength?

It didn't occur to me that I never named my own mystery illness the spring before (except to misdiagnose it to friends as mono), because I'd been afraid to admit, even to my mother, how much I'd wanted to lie down somewhere and hide. Black women, tall and strong as cypress trees, didn't pull that. Pain and shame and cowardice and fear had to be kept secret.

I had walked into Wilkinson a boy. Now, I wasn't at all sure who or what I was.

I am the only one who can speak for them, and for the children we were.

It was a gift," Angelo said. "From a friend." "A friend does not give a gun as a gift." Angelo walked into the room and sat down next to his father. "This one does," he said. "And what will you do with such a gift?" "It will remind me," Angelo said in a near whisper. "Of what?" Paolino's eyes searched the boy's face. "Of what I am without it, Papa.

Duele constatar que algo que ha sido tuyo, o así lo creíste, ya solo puedes abordarlo como extranjero, y que no hay mejor manera de probarle tu afecto que apartándote hacia la penumbra. Desarma pensar que poco a poco resbalas, así, hacia la penumbra de todo.

We are—or we become—what we pretend to be, so we must be very careful who we pretend to be.

We all need a mask in order to function. But wear the mask too long and we forget who really lives behind it. Right? We forget our authentic selves.

No matter how much we pretend otherwise—mothers, daughters, grandmothers—there is always a part of us deep down inside that remains the little girl we once were.

Whatever the answers, I am now pushed up against the Monster I've been trying to hide from. And suddenly I face two paths. Just two choices: Either accept this and allow myself to be violated all over again—remain the Anonymous Girl and hide even deeper behind my masks and coping mechanisms. Or this time stand tall. Fight back. Be seen. No longer the ghost.

You are beautiful. You are strong. You are enough. You don't need to be anything more. Or less.

Hannah finds her threatening. She's everything Hannah is not. She's free. Creative. A little wild. Unscripted. Sexual. She threatens Hannah's way of being. She challenges Hannah's preconceptions of how she should behave as a middle-aged housewife.