Quotes About Identity

Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.

Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

How should I your true love knowFrom another one?By his cockle hat and staff,And his sandal shoon.

I am more an antique Roman than a Dane.

I have a daughter;Would any of the stock of BarabbasHad been her husband rather than a Christian!

Think you I am no stronger than my sex,Being so father'd and so husbanded?

All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; take honour from me and my life is done.

Simply the thing I am shall make me live.

Simply the thing that I am shall make me live.

The soul of this man is in his clothes.

We know what we are, but not what we may be.

both of us were raised in lower-middle-class Orthodox Jewish immigrant families

I don't want people to know me. I want them to believe my version.

The thread that has run through my life is loneliness. Even as a child I was never part of a group. I don't know why. It was not by choice. Maybe because I was Jewish in a predominantly non-Jewish school. But I was fighting all the time. I had very few friends.

The proper means of increasing the love we bear our native country is to reside some time in a foreign one.

Normal" women were rare, unless one considered Judy Garland a normal woman.

If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home we may miss our star. ... And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail, but if one wanders the circus won't find the park, I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

Things you know before you hear them -- Those are you, Those are why You are in the world.

They miss the whisper that runs any day in your mind, "Who are you really, wanderer?"-- and the answer you have to give no matter how dark and cold the world around you is: "Maybe I'm a king.

Durant tota la joventut t'he estat buscant sense saber què buscava.

How did the world ever manage without me before I was born?' he wondered. 'Didn't they feel something was missing?

I wish I were a rock,' he said, and he became a rock.