Quotes About Identity

Did you hear about the Scottish drag queen? He wore pants.

What was her disguise? For once, she [Verity] did not know. She was the female Mr. Twaddle-Thum dressed as a clerk pretending to be a reporter. If any of the staff recognized her as Robert Lark, none of them indicated it by look or deed.

the secret to being a villain was believing yourself to be a victim.

I would still be inclined to argue that you are underestimating the value of Twaddle's good name, for it is all that he has. As you yourself just pointed out, he is nothing but a name.

you couldn't stop a person from being who she was. All you could do was stop yourself from being with her.

Showing up underdressed is as smart as standing in the marketplace and shouting you've become an agent for the crown." "I'd hang myself first. I hate being a female." "Well until you sprout a beard and cock there you are.

Catty had tattooed the crescent moon and star on Jimena's arm. Jimena also had two teardrops tattooed under her eye. Her other tattoos, remnants from her gang days, were hidden under her clothes. She, too, had a gift. She received premonitions about the future.

Tianna gingerly touched her eyes, nose, and lips. She was startlingly beautiful. "Wow," she whispered, and brushed her fingers through her long silky black hair. Not many people ever got to see themselves as a stranger would. There was no prejudice in her vision or modesty imposed from a lifetime of living with her face and body. She could honestly say she was stunning. No wonder the guys were turning their heads, and the girls, too. She was a knockout.

They were dressed in leather like biker chicks. Serena had on platform boots, a tight-fitting motorcycle jacket, and a mini. Jimena wore studded ankle boots, a bareback leather halter top, and a hip-hugging matching skirt.

She looked down at the amulet that hung around her neck. She seldom took it off, but she unclasped it now and studied the face of the moon etched in the metal. Sparkling in the sunlight, it wasn't pure silver but reflected pinks and blues and greens. Maybe who she was had something to do with this moon charm that was given to her at birth.

A dangerous woman delves deeply into the truth of who she is, grounds herself daily in the healing and empowering love of God, and radically engages with the needs of the world.

If my love must be a rodent, then shall I be anything but a rat?

After opening his concert with the American national anthem, Rubinstein stood up and told the audience that he did not see the flag of his own country among the dozens displayed in the Opera House. His next selection, he announced, would therefore be the Polish national anthem. As he played the stirring notes of "Poland Has Not Yet Perished as Long as We Live," the audience burst out in loud, sustained applause.

How long would it take, she wondered, before she felt comfortable using her real name instead of a false one? Or to realize that a knock on the door was not the Gestapo but the postman delivering mail?

I know I'm still young and there's a lot of time for things to happen, but sometimes I think there is something about me that's wrong, that I'm not the kind of person anyone can fall in love with, and that I'll always just be alone.

Indian and everything else, away. So Omri had had to keep it secret, and

Yet when we do manage to create ourselves anew, isn't there always a suspicion that the new identity fits over the old like a second skin, at times itchy or uncomfortably tight, not quite covering the most vulnerable patches?

My life felt narrower, and not my own. I gave up some of my life, that's the kind of thought I had, common to us who don't want to do what we feel obliged to do. A sacrifice.

Offence is so easily given. And where the 'minority' issue is involved, the rules seem to shift about: most of the time a person who is female/black/disabled/gay wants this not to be their defining characteristic; you are supposed to be blind to it. But then, on other occasions, you are supposed to observe special sensitivity, or show special respect.

No one else understands us 7th sense people. They regard us as freaks. When we point out illiterate mistakes, we are often aggressively instructed to 'get a life' by people who, interestingly, display no evidence of having lives themselves.

Have you ever seen An American Werewolf in London ? Well, I'm not American. I'm not a werewolf, and this isn't London.

She wondered why they didn't understand that their true selfs were good enough, and if they weren't, then the someones they weren't good enough for, were really the ones not good enough.

My identity must be anchored to the truth of who God is and who He is to me. Only then can I find a stability beyond what my feelings will ever allow. The closer I align my truth with His truth, the more closely I identify with God—and the more my identity really is in Him.

Living loved is sourced in your quiet daily surrender to the One who made you.