Quotes About Identity

When you write it down…" he said. "Does that make it—whatever it is—real again? Or does the act of putting it into words make it unreal? You know, something…separate from yourself.

I was older, heavier, and completely berserk.

Sassenach I might be to him, but not English.

You call her 'Dame Blanche,' " Jamie said, between his teeth. "I call her wife! Let her face be the last that ye see, then!

I would ask the one thing of ye, lad—let it be the English. Not your ain folk.

Aye, well, my mother was their sister, and there were two more sisters, besides. My Auntie Janet is dead, like my mother, but my Auntie Jocasta married a cousin of Rupert's, and lives up near the edge of Loch Eilean Mhor. Auntie Janet had six children, four boys and two girls, Auntie Jocasta had three, all girls, Dougal's got the four girls, Callum has little Hamish only, and my parents had me and my sister, who's named for my Auntie Janet, but we called her Jenny always.

shades of brown and gold, and if I did say so myself, it fit me like a glove.

Yes, she said. Jamie's part of me. So are you. ... But neither of you is all of me, she said softly, back turned. I am... what I am. Doctor, nurse, healer, witch - whatever folk call it, the name doesn't matter. I was born to be that; I will be that 'til I die. If I should lose you - or Jamie - I wouldn't be quite a whole person any longer, but I would still have that left...

You invent yourself," I said softly, to the shadows inside the hair that had fallen over my face. "You look at other women—or men; you try on their lives for size. You take what you can use, and you look inside yourself for what you can't find elsewhere. And always Ã¢â'¬Â¦ always Ã¢â'¬Â¦ you wonder if you're doing it right.

The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves.

She had seen Brianna's face for a moment in the light; white as paper and hard as bone, with the eyes black holes. Her gentle, kindly mistress had vanished like smoke, taken over by a deamhan, a she-devil. Lizzie was a town lass, born long after Culloden. She had never seen the wild clansmen of the glens, or a Highlander in the grip of blood fury—but she'd heard the auld stories, and now she knew them true. A person who looked like that might do anything at all. She

Randall! Of course!" Roger smacked himself on the forehead, and felt his cheeks grow hot at Brianna's giggle. "You're going to think me a complete fool, but I've only just realized who you are.

We keep it so to remember," he said. "To show to the weans, and tell them when they ask—this is what the English are.

James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Captain.

Though I suppose if you're honest with yourself and know what you are, at least you're less likely to feel that you've wasted your life, doing the wrong thing.

Who—" My voice was hoarse with shock, and I had to stop and clear my throat. "Who is his mother?" Grey hesitated, eyeing me closely, then shrugged slightly. "Was. She's dead.

Her name was Geneva Dunsany," Grey said. "My wife's sister.

I've always felt like I'm Asia: I'm the first me and I'm the first Asia that's going to walk into the room, and I'm here to change the game. That's part of who I am.

Once I became more famous, I was proud that people in Asia started to look towards me.

I told my team, 'I don't want to go out for Asian roles anymore.'

I hope my daughter will be able to see shows starring Asian people that has nothing to do with an Asian story.

I grew up very American but also fully Asian.

I feel more Asian than anything.

I find being an adult very difficult. Being an adult artist, Asian American, incredibly difficult. Or trying, anyway.