Quotes About Identity

Insecurity, thy name is teenager.

Bob, I said over my shoulder. Tell her it's me. Can't, Bob said in a dreamy tone. Boobs.

I hate feeling like Han Solo in a world of Jedi.

At the end of the day, people have to be who they are. If you try to take that from them, you diminish them. You reduce them to children, unable to make decisions for themselves. There's no way to poison your relationship with someone else faster.

I flicked a comb through my wet hair, for all the good it would do, and said, How do I look? Mostly human, she said. That's what I was going for.

I didn't have any money or ID. I didn't have a credit card. Hell, I didn't have a business card. What would it say? 'Harry Dresden, Winter Knight, Targets Slain, No Barbecues, Waterslides, or Fireworks Displays.

You are different. That does not make you less.

Who am I? What have I done with my life? Who can I trust? That last one is a doozy. It haunts you in moments of doubt. Sometimes when you wake up at night, you wonder if you've put your faith in the right people. Sometimes when you find yourself alone, for whatever reason, you review every little thing you know about someone, searching your memory for small, subtle things you may have missed about them.

We had reached the doors to my suite, which still felt awkward to say, even in my own head. My suite. Guys like me don't have suites. We have lairs.

Only the young think being called old is an insult," I said, still smiling. "I am what I am, regardless of what anyone calls it. No one can change it, regardless of what anyone calls it. And it mostly means that nothing has managed to kill me yet.

Who," said the man, his accent thick and British, "are you?" "The Great Pumpkin," I responded. "I've risen from the pumpkin patch a bit early because Butters is just that nifty. And you are?

You've got it backward, Harry," he said. "You are a soul. You have a body.

Aer-O-Smith. Arrowsmith. Does the shirt belong to your weapon dealer?" "No." "Then why do you wear the shirt of someone else's weapon dealer?

She was furious that I had seen her true form, horrified and embarrassed that I had stripped her disguise away and seen the creature beneath. And she was afraid that I could take away even her mask, forever, with my power.

Shame, child, is for those who fail to live up to the ideal of what they believe they should be.

We're all the hero of our own story.

And since when had I become the guy that things happened to ten years ago?

Man sees faces. Sees skin. Flags. Membership lists. Files. God sees hearts.

His red hair was buzz cut, and he wore his ill-fitting suit like something that he planned to rip his way out of when he turned into the Hulk.

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure by it at your own risk.

Dammit, man. I'm a Faerie Princess, not a forensic analyst." I

It's me. Hell's bells, there isn't anything that I can think of that would mimic me looking like this. Even demonic fiends from the nether regions of hell have some taste.

I do not perceive myself to be mad. But if I were truly mad, would I be able to tell?

Fuego! shouted someone on the walls - and for a second I was hit with a little sting of insult. Someone was shouting fuego and it wasn't me.