Identity Quotes

I’m not just a face, or a body. I’m a Havisham.

I watch the sky progress through its morning paces, the light turning from rose to saffron as the sun ascends, its rays like ribbons tangling in the tops of trees.

Finally the dawn came, the sky fringed with pink, and the sun bright as a coin in a spill of rising red.

...tethered to the ground by quotidian conversation.... the window rosy with anemic November light.

...the clear water the color of deeply steeped tea, surrounded by cattails and gracile grasses.

The ultimate barrier against love is the barrier of the constructed self.

Until the ego dissolves or evolves to become one with our true self, we remain slaves of our own egos.

A mask is what we wear to hide from ourselves.

The waves splash against my face, carrying a message: Welcome, you belong here.

To exist here, I’ll have to become skilled in saying no—an art in which I was once well accomplished, but one I no longer care to practice.

Nothing worse than someone who goes to the dance, is excited to dance, dances all night, and then complains all the next day about his feet being sore.

I never get used to the faces--wide-eyed and full of possibility--staring bad at me.

Even the best buzz wears off, and you wake up more trapped than the day before.

I have forsaken her for a place I will never belong, but will always remain under her spell, forever to be, a child of my motherland.

My discontent has accumulated over the past months, searching for a leak in the dam I’ve constructed to separate my true feelings from the situation closing in around me.

Felt good, though, just being what I was.

Behind every face lies a mask. Behind it lies another onion layer of mask. If you peel the skins, you may cry.

You are who you are. Deal with it.

Variety may be the spice of life, but consistency pays the bills.

I’m like a fish in a pool, turning quickly to avoid what challenges it. My only decision is whether to go right or left to sidestep confrontation.

When compared side by side, my days can barely be distinguished from one another. The only difference is what I do after work and with whom I do it.

A woman made of parts is a dangerous thing, " Grandma says. "You never know when she'll throw away a piece you may need...

No matter what you do, you are that girl. It's how you become that girl that matters.

Now I feel free, and hope is creeping back. Maybe because I'm paying attention to what I have rather than what's missing.

Word has traveled quickly that just because you're on island doesn't mean you have to be stranded---as long as you have cash.

Rationalization is foreplay with one's conscience.

Our selves are are rough and unrehearsed tales we tell the world.

All that remains is to forge the #commitment. Regardless of how right everything feels, words never last.

Appearances can be deceiving, but the true colours of your soul remain.

Thus are many identities, over time, shown to be temporary alignments of components involved in a deeper allegiance.

...as I was sifting through a heap of old and new "identity cards, " I noticed that something was missing: my identity.

I felt good that, although there was no future, there would always be a past.

She knew where she stood, when she stood among books.

If she looked further than the wedding, it was to see marriage as the beginning of individual existence, this skirmish from which one one's spurs, from which one set out on the true quests of life.

the man eventually becomes what he dreams of"By T. Afsin Ilgar - Ted's Tale

Maybe the hardened clay was not as ugly as I had thought. Maybe what I resented was the color my father had painted me. The time had come to sand away some of that dreadful stain.

My best works are for me. Not for the world.

When you get your, 'Who am I?', question right, all of your, 'What should I do?' questions tend to take care of themselves

[Caine]"Interesting. Me, I've always wanted to know who my real parents were."[Sam]"Let me guess: you're secretly a wizard who was raised by muggles.

Love holds no expectation on what you will be, it simply values who you are.

A memoir, at its heart, is written in order to figure out who you are.

He who says that someone isn’t himself is a victim of statistics.

An ID number is only there to 'identify' human beings. Use it to assume people’s intellect or wisdom at your own risk.

There's the trick: to find the way - whether forwards or back - to what we long to be.

Who thought up the dumb idea to arrange the memoir section in the bookstore by subject?

Sometimes it seems my identity’s a matter of opinion

I see that if you try to fit someone in a box, she might slip through the seams like water and become her own river.

If your parents died suddenly, Sandro understood, your home was wherever you were, and now you were from nowhere. Your parents were your provenance. Dead, you had no provenance.

Just as the sea is an open and ever flowing reality, so should our oceanic identity transcend all forms of insularity, to become one that is openly searching, inventive, and welcoming.

...at some point we must achieve our identity -we can't be always in adolescence seeking who we are...