Quotes About Identity

She's way more of a quote unquote hero than I am.

I am an American aquarium drinker

Hey! I'm A Cherry Ghost!

If you were me, which I am,

That's one of the problems with humans—that we can be talked out of loving something. That we can be talked out of loving something that we do, and we can be talked out of loving ourselves.

I think the disconnect is more related to the idea of "being" anything when it's the "doing" that's more rewarding. Being something isn't real in the same way that doing something can be real.

If you don't know your passion, it confuses your mind, not your heart.

I told him point-blank so there would be no mistake: This person he wanted to know better did not exist; I was who I seemed to be from the outside. That would never change.

Am I a person or a weapon?" Always he wanted to know that he was a person. He just kept giving me different choices so one time I might slip up and say, "You're not a person." "You are a person. But like a person, you can be a weapon, too.

If someone seems to have changed from one session to another, make sure you haven't changed instead." A warning from his mother, once upon a time, delivered as if she'd upended a box of spy-advice fortune cookies and chosen one at random.

Back there, I had always felt as if my work amounted to a futile attempt to save us from who we are.

Was he the woman with no clue where the ant was or the ant, unaware it was on the woman?

pretending often leads to becoming a reasonable facsimile of what you mimic, even if only from a distance.

I'm not an answer," she said. "I'm a question." She might also be a message incarnate, a signal in the flesh, even if she hadn't yet figured out what story she was supposed to tell.

There is no one with me. I am all by myself. The trees are not trees the birds are not birds and I am not me but just something that has been walking for a very long time . . .

Become a type, no one saw you. Paranoid thought: What better disguise? But disguise for what?

What am I? How am I connected? What is my purpose? What is all of this, felt in the flesh? Why is it so beautiful? What is beautiful? Why do I not know? What else don't I know? When will I know it? Will I ever know? Would knowing be too much?

I think this is an asylum. But so is the rest of the world.

My mother was an overwrought artist who achieved some success but was a little too fond of alcohol and always struggled to find new clients, while my dad the underemployed accountant specialized in schemes to get rich quick that usually brought in nothing. Neither of them seemed to possess the ability to focus on one thing for any length of time. Sometimes it felt as if I had been placed with a family rather than born into one.

Terroir's direct translation is 'a sense of place

Names belonged to where we had come from, not to who we were...

and in the aftermath he'd taken back his name, asked that she call him Control again rather than John, which she respected. Some animals' shells were vital to their survival. Some animals couldn't live for long without them.

The face that stares back at you from the mirror later in life is so different than when you're young. There's a winnowing away and a shutting down. A sense of something having been taken from you and you don't know exactly what it is, just that it isn't there anymore.

A bird can be a bat. A bat can be a piece of floating plastic bag. Way of the world. To see things as other things.