Quotes About Identity

I always look for a woman who has a tattoo. I see a woman with a tattoo, and I'm thinking, okay, here's a gal who's capable of making a decision she'll regret in the future.

The way I see it, anyone who's proud of their country is either a thug or just hasn't read enough history yet.

Don't drink too much." "When I can spell out your name in shot glasses, I'll stop." "I'll have to get a shorter name." "I'll have to forget how to spell it.

Hell didn't make me a monster. It just confirmed all my worst fears about myself.

My head is full of monsters and I'm one of them.

I'd like to think they're staring at me because of my white-hot animal magnetism, but I'm not Elvis. I'm Lobster Boy, hear me roar.

Maybe home isn't the place you love, just the place you know best.

You're quite the humanitarian. By the way, thanks a fuck of a lot for leaving me off your who-to-save list. You're on it, Alfredo Garcia. I just didn't want to say it out loud and have you call me Nancy or Tinker Bell. Yeah, I would have done that.

Hell, boy. At some point, all fathers want to kill their sons. Just like all sons think about killing their old man. They're too much alike or they're not enough alike. It doesn't matter. What's beautiful is that they don't do it.

Everyone in the world is a Charlie. The trick is to figure out which Charlie you're going to be. Charlie Manson. Charlie Starkweather. Or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." "Charlie Chaplin." "Charlie Parker." "Charly… from Flowers for Algernon." "Charlie Brown.

I prefer Abomination. It fits better on a T-shirt. I'd comp you one, but we don't have any big enough for your ego.

What happened to your face?" she says idly. "Which time?" "The new one." "I got shot.

Then you better tell whoever is Lucifer, because I'm living in his palace, wearing his clothes, and peeing in his shower.

Your image of yourself is one of a beast. A benevolent one, but a beast nonetheless. As much as this might pain you, it is also easy and familiar. It allows you to do away with deeper emotions.

Who are you?" I say. "Sawney Bean." I shake him a couple of times. "Sawney Bean? He died three hundred years ago and a million miles away. Try again, Porky." He laughs and grabs my arms. "I'm Sawney and I'll eat your guts for lunch." "Naming yourself after a dead cannibal might scare some people, but you're just a clown to me. Now tell me again why I shouldn't drop you out a window?

Why don't you tell me about why you're here?" says Ray. Before I can answer, Carlos says. "Despite appearances, Stark here is dead." Ray cocks his head and looks at me. "I wouldn't have guessed," says Ray. "You wear death well.

What's that old Sunday school warning about how if you fight dragons too long, you can become one? That's been spinning around in my head for years, long enough that I know I'd rather be a dragon than a sheep to the slaughter.

I've been me for so long, what am I going to be if that's gone?

Finally, he says, "Who are you?" I say, "No one important. Who are you?" He has to think about it for a few seconds. Sort through a lot of mental detritus before he comes up with something. No, this guy hasn't chatted in a long time. "Billy?" he says. "Billy Boop.

And if I do live, I don't know if my body is ever going to be right again. I mean, even if I figure out what Ludovico's Ellicit is and get cured, I might look like Freddy Krueger's foreskin forever.

Whatever happened, he wasn't just Mason anymore. He was Mason and something else. Like God's older brother, who takes God's money, steals his car, and fucks his girlfriend. That's Mason now. A guy who isn't afraid to pants God...

Next you'll tell me that Mickey Mouse is just a guy in a costume.

While food makes us live, stories are what make our lives worth living.

The storied self knows that self is not enough.