Quotes About Identity

I needed to make choices for me, whoever I was. I'd say I needed to find myself, if that didn't sound like I was heading into the Himalayas, taking only a backpack stuffed with angst and clean underwear

That's the true reveal in Rockton. Not discovering someone lied about their background or committed a crime in their past. It's finding out they aren't the person you thought they were, their underlying character hidden behind a false front.

Moria would storm out against their wishes. Yet Ashyn was coming to accept that she could not be her sister, and it was not a failure of nerve. It was a difference of inner composition. They might look identical without; they were not identical within.

If Clay snarled and raged, he was a proper werewolf. If I did, I was a hysterical woman.

Am I the only one around here who thinks Maya has a hidden Y chromosome?" Hayley said. "If she does, she's hiding it pretty good," Corey said, giving me a lascivious once-over.

Would you like to join us, Rafael?" my mom asked. "Or do you go by Rafe?" "Usually." A disarming grin. "Unless I'm in trouble.

He called after me, "How old am I, Maya?" I turned. "How the hell should I know? Whatever you've told the school, I'm sure it's a lie anyway." "I'm sixteen, just like you. Or like you will be tomorrow, from what I heard. My birthday was last month." "Congratulations." I started walking again. "I'll send you a card next year, if you hang around that long, which I doubt.

He called after me, "How old am I, Maya?" I turned. "How the hell should I know? Whatever you've told the school, I'm sure it's a lie anyway.

I don't have the same symptoms as you guys," he finally said. "But I know you think I'm something, too. Something supernatural." "There were two other terms on that list," Daiel said. " Xana and sileni ." "Which are…?" "I have no idea.

And Sam? Well, she's not even human, so she doesn't count." "Excuse me?" Sam said. "Face it, you're not one of those bendo-things. You're a robot. A cyborg. Probably an evil one, programmed to murder us all in our sleep." Corey snickered. "Yeah?" Sam lifted a fist to Hayley. "You want to try that one again, blondie?" Hayley looked at Daniel and me. "I rest my case.

You sure about the twin thing?" Corey said when Rafe had finished. "Yes, I don't have a long-lost twin brother." "I do," I said. "Or so I've heard." Rafe grinned at me. "Yes, but I'm not him." "Which is good." "Very good.

Rafe told everyone he was from Texas. That was bull. I'd dated a summer guy from Texas, and Rafe's drawl was all wrong. His last name suggested he was Latino, and he kind of looked it, but his high cheekbones and amber eyes said Native to me. He was a little taller than Daniel, lean, with black hair that hung just past the collar of his leather jacket. Worn blue jeans and low motorcycle boots completed the image: American Teen Rebel.

I saw that dark patch on her haunch and I knew when she was human, there'd be a birthmark in the same place. I knew what it meant for her. And I knew what it meant for me. Yee naaldlooshii. Skin-walker.

Maya's point is that Hayley, Nicole, and Serena shared common characteristics, which probably means they're the same type, and it has something to do with singing and swimming." "And being pretty," Hayley said. "That's not a superpower," Sam muttered.

What about me?" Corey said. "What's my superpower?" Silence fell. "Oh, come on. I'm good at a lot of stuff. Right?" More silence.

What about me?" Corey said. "What's my superpower?" Silence fell. "Oh, come on. I'm good at a lot of stuff. Right?" More silence. "You're cute," Hayley said. "Well, cute enough." "Fun to be around," I offered. "So I'm…a clown?

Do you know what that word meant? The one she called me?" She shook her head. "No idea. I don't even know if it's Navajo. She may have lived with them, but she's white. The language is nearly impossible for an outsider to learn." "Calling me a witch, too." I shook my head. "At least give me a chance to earn it first.

You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you, Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong." He gave me a sidelong smile. "Maybe it's not that kind of hunting." "Then you're definitely doing it wrong.

I didn't find my story; it found me, as autobiography always does: finds you out in your deepest most private places.

The story of his great-grandfather . . . was his own story, too.

I'm not good at the friends thing. I'm the human equivalent of one of those baby birds that fall out of a nest and then some nice person picks the baby bird up and puts it back. Except that now the baby bird smells all wrong. I think I smell wrong.

The face, the whole body, the way you moved in it, just a guise. You put it on, you put it off again. What was underneath belonged to you, just you, as long as you kept it hidden.

Pity the introvert with the face of a therapist or a kindergarten teacher. Like the werewolf, we are uneasy in human spaces and human company, though we wear a human skin.

It was the first time he'd ever had a reason to send out Christmas cards, and it had been difficult, finding the right things to say in them, especially since they probably weren't his father, no matter what his mother thought. Not all of them, anyway.