Quotes About Identity

as far as Buzz is concerned, the universe is two things: me and not me.

It may be that places exist in order that memory itself has a home.

Whenever you feel compelled to put others first at the expense of yourself, you are denying your own reality, your own identity.

Meaning springs from belonging.

After all, how could I be a person if Ultimate Reality were impersonal?

Our identity includes our natural world, how we move through it, how we interact with it and how it sustains us.

Doing so, however, reinforces a problematic "we" that discounts those with disabilities by suggesting all of us occupy failed embodiments in some way without an ability to attend to crip/queer materiality's nuances of experience.

I'd had a relationship with a French girl, a Japanese girl, an American girl, a Filippina and she was there all the time - a Lancashire girl. I thought: 'It's a Lancashire girl I was looking for. Why didn't I realize it?'

All my life I'd wanted to be special, and for a while I was, sharing David's spirit. Now I'd have to find a way to be special in my own right.

For a while I saw myself as an outcast from an America that had always been mine.

J'ai lentement déshabillé son apparence pour savoir qui elle était. (Dix-huit ans, p.143)

How could anyone be"Cary Grant"? But how can anyone, ever after, not consider the attempt?

This book is meant to tell the story of Indian lives, and Indian histories, in such a way as to render those histories and those lives as something much more, much greater and grander, than a catalog of pain.

To understand American Indians is to understand America. This is the story of the paradoxically least and most American place in the twenty-first century. Welcome to the Rez.

That Native American cultures are imperiled is important and not just to Indians. It is important to everyone, or should be. When we lose cultures, we lose American plurality—the productive and lovely discomfort that true difference brings.

the Indian "must be imbued with the exalting egotism of American civilization so that he will say 'I' instead of 'We,' and 'This is mine' instead of 'This is ours.

En la primera mitad de la vida lo que más importa es la apariencia externa, pero cuando entramos en la segunda sólo nos mantienen los cimientos, los pilares ocultos donde se sienta la estructura de nuestra personalidad.

It must be admitted, truth compels me to admit, even here in the presence of the monument we have erected to his memory, Abraham Lincoln was not . . . either our man or our model. In his interests, in his associations, in his habits of thought, and in his prejudices, he was a white man.

By the Rivers of Babylon, there we sat down. Yea! we wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there, they that carried us away captive, required of us a song; and they who wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. How can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land? If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.

My poor mother," Douglass wrote, "like many other slave women, had many children, but NO FAMILY!"21

I know somebody from university who's called Phil Collins and I think there's something terribly unfortunate about sharing a name With somebody who either is famous or becomes famous.

I used to have a silk dressing gown an uncle bought in Japan and when I came downstairs in it, my dad used to call me Davinia. There was never embarrassment about that kind of thing. My sister used to dress me up a lot. She thought I was a little doll.

My name is Mr Bread." He began writing his name neatly on the board. "But you can call me Peter." Suddenly there was quiet, as thirty little brains whirred. "Pita Bread!" proclaimed a ginger-haired boy from the back.

He seemed lonely too, not just alone, but lonely in his soul. That made Chloe sad. She knew full well what it was like to feel lonely. Chloe didn't like school very much. Mother had insisted on sending her to a posh all-girls secondary school, and she hadn't made any friends there. Chloe didn't like being at home much either. Wherever she was she had the feeling that she didn't quite fit in.