Quotes About Identity

There was something it was searching for - some kind of memory of a previous life - a scent, an image. Was it the purple-headed man, or something else?

a person. Just like her. Just like everyone. Lost and alone

whatever happened to the nice old guy with the purple bandana?

For a cat is just a cat, and cannot change its nature.

I'm not geeky but I have my geeky, corky moments, and then I've got some aspects of cool in me, I guess.

Who knows their own story? Certainly it makes no sense when we are living in the midst of it. It's all just clamor and confusion. It only becomes a story when we tell it and retell it. Our small precious recollections that we speak again and again to ourselves and to others, first creating the narrative of our lives and then keeping the story from dissolving into darkness.

Non c'è confine tra quel che siamo e quel che dovremmo essere. Siamo solo quel che possiamo essere.

My biggest fear is losing memory because memory is what we are.

Oh, fuck it, I'm a monster, I admit it!

The UK is not going to leave the European Union. Of course not. We are inextricably wound up with Europe. In terms of culture, history and geography, we are a European nation.

Politics is a highly tribal business.

Identity politics contains a trap. Of all the reasons to be wary of religious leaders asking the state to suspend freedom of speech to spare their tender feelings, not the smallest is that selective censorship leaves liberals with no argument against sectarians from the dominant denomination or ethnic group.

I'd have to be a sociopath to be a traitor. I'm a psychopath. There's a difference, believe me. Psychopaths believe in something, even if that something's not actually real." "Where's

I wish we all didn't have a story. –Karen

The Germanic tone… it's very calm yet quietly confident. I bet Germans were really cool, whoever they were back on Earth. They sound peaceful and meditative.

Because with all that I read, all that I learn, I discover how much I do not know. Ideas batter me like hailstones. Questions but no answers. Who am I? Where am I from? Do I have a family?

Sometimes it feels like I live in such a shit town. It meets all reasonable definitions of a shit town. There are still men who put on hats to drive on these roads, our only celebrities are sports stars and newsreaders, and everyone you meet already knows your mother. p.34

We're an easy target for remarks about crossing the border and turning the clock back fifteen years, or a hundred. We're a state that's known for pineapples and cane toads, old bad attitudes and the brain-addling heat that comes from the Tropic of Capricorn sitting right across our middle. We're that kind of state - hot and steamy, unlovely and unloved, far too much fodder here for metaphors about festering and putrefaction.

By the time I make my way to the border of Mauritania, to the edge of the Sahara, I see no end to being lost. You can spend your entire life simply falling in that direction. It isn't a station you reach but just the general state of going down. Once you make it back, if you make it back, you will stand before your long-lost friends but in some essential way they will no longer know you.

What I was trying to say, maybe, is that I don't know what it is I'm capable of transforming into.

Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instruction book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go.

The trouble with my generation is that we all think we're fucking geniuses. Making something isn't good enough for us, and neither is selling something, or teaching something, or even just doing something; we have to be something.

I believe, do you know, we never stop being what we were, young. We don't shed the young self, we just put on other skins, one cover after another, but somewhere in us is still the self we were before we fell, before we started covering ourselves. And all the rest of our lives, we're trying to go back, we're looking for it, what we lost.

No, I'm talking about being a complete loser. That's something totally new to the rock idiom, which by its very nature is immature and totally macho-orientated in its basic attitude.