Quotes About Identity

I am not Death. I am killing; I am the verb, I am the action, I am the performance.

Yes, and I have training dealing with deep, existential questions," Dahl said. "The way I'm dealing with it right now is this: I don't care whether I really exist or don't, whether I'm real or fictional. What I want right now is to be the person who decides my own fate. That's something I can work on. It's what I'm working on now.

In the end I am who I am. I am what I have made myself and what has been made of me. Part of who I am is who you are too; I have given you me as well. I would take your name and hold it in me, and whisper my name in your ear.

But individuals are not precise mirrors of their nations. And

He was originally from Guatemala but immigrated to the United States when he was a kid. He was the one to solve the buffer overflow—

I think I'll keep my own opinion out of the 'sale' rack, if it's all the same to you.

Hul loitered in the general cabin, and six fellow members of the Fflict species as the rescue team. The Fflict recognized five genders: male, female, zhial, yal, and neuter. Aul was zhial, and ze liked zis pronouns accurately stated. I would too, in zis position.

I'm not even one year old," Jared said. "I can be a baby if I want.

Other countries pass laws requiring that their movie theaters, television networks, and radio stations have to play a certain percentage of homegrown entertainment. Because if they didn't, Hollywood would wipe it all out. We're not a world leader because we have nuclear missiles and submarines. We are because we have Bugs Bunny and Friends. Our planet is what Hollywood has made it.

I'm trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up. A nice thing to wonder about when you're thirty." "I don't think it matters what age you are when you figure it out," Brous said. "I think the important thing is to figure it out before someone else tells you what you want to be, and they get it wrong.

Kiva considered that she might be developing a thing for Fundapellonan, which on one hand would be a very not-Kiva thing to do, but on the other hand who gave a fuck if it was "not-Kiva," because she wasn't some fucking fictional character destined to do whatever some goddamn hack wanted her to do.

Estaba pensando. En eso de ser ficticio y tal.

Making people change because you can't deal with who they are isn't how it's supposed to be done. What needs to be done is for people to pull their heads out of their asses. You say 'cure.' I hear 'you're not human enough

Oh, and maybe I should say what my name is. Just for the record. It's Rafe. Rafe Daquin. I'm Rafe Daquin, and I'm a brain in a box. Hi.

Such attitude," I said to Jane. "She gets it from your side." "She's adopted," Jane said. "And I'm not the smart-ass in the family.

When you study history, you're really studying yourself. Every bit of history I've uncovered about my own family has some remnant in myself.

People like you to be something, preferably what they are.

How can we live without our lives? How will we know it's us without our past?

The quality of owning freezes you forever in I, and cuts you off forever from the we.

After the bare requisites to living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he has really existed. He leaves his proof on wood, on stone or on the lives of other people. This deep desire exists in everyone, from the boy who writes dirty words in a public toilet to the Buddha who etches his image in the race mind. Life is so unreal. I think that we seriously doubt that we exist and go about trying to prove that we do.

I'm jus' pain covered with skin.

He said, I am a man, and that meant certain things to Juana. It meant that he was half insane and half god.

As with many people, Charles, who could not talk, wrote with fullness. He set down his loneliness and his perplexities, and he put on paper many things he did not know about himself.

She wasn't happy, but then she wasn't unhappy. She wasn't anything. But I don't believe anyone is a nothing. There has to be something inside, if only to keep the skin from collapsing. This vacant eye, listless hand, this damask cheek dusted like a doughnut with plastic powder, had to have a memory or a dream.