Be You And No One Else Quotes

I wanted to explore more of us and lose myself, I wanted it to be you and no one else" AP ~ Alexis Pettway

Art has no rules. That's what makes it art. ~ Grace-Naomi

Long voyages often lose themselves.
Mam?
You will see. It is difficult even for brothers to travel together on such a voyage. The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all. Listen to the corridos of the country. They will tell you. Then you will see in your own life what is the cost of things. Perhaps it is true that nothing is hidden. Yet many do not wish to see what lies before them in plain sight. You will see. The shape of the road is the road. There is not some other road that wears the shape but only the one. And every voyage begun upon it will be completed. Whether horses are found or not. ~ Cormac McCarthy

I lost my second judo tournament. I finished second, losing to a girl named Anastasia. Afterward, her coach congratulated me.

"You did a great job. Don't feel bad, Anastasia is a junior national champion."

I felt consoled for about a second, until I noticed the look of disgust on Mom's face. I nodded at the coach and walked away.

Once we were out of earshot she lit into me. "I hope you know better than to believe what he said. You could have won that match. You had every chance to beat that girl. The fact that she is a junior national champion doesn't mean anything. That's why they have tournaments, so you can see who is better. They don't award medals based on what you won before. If you did your absolute best, if you were capable of doing nothing more, then that's enough. Then you can be content with the outcome. But if you could have done better, if you could have done more, then you should be disappointed. You should be upset you didn't win. You should go home and think about what you could have done differently and then next time do it differently. Don't you ever let anyone tell you that not doing your absolute best is good enough. You are a skinny blonde girl who lives by the beach, and unless you absolutely force them to, no one is ever going to expect anything from you in this sport. You prove them wrong. ~ Ronda Rousey

Don't be too anxious on my account. I have but one wish - to be in good health; the tedium is a passing matter, and cheerfulness depends in the last resort upon myself. Human beings have an incredible amount of endurance and will to live; I should never have expected to find so much in myself; now I know it from experience. Farewell! I hope that these few lines will give you much pleasure. Greet every one you see whom I have known - forget no one. I have not forgotten anybody. What can the children be thinking of me, and how do they explain to themselves my disappearance ? Farewell. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

No one has expressed what is needed better than Abdel Rahman al-Rashed, the general manager of the London-based al-Arabiya news channel. One of the best-known and most respected Arab journalists working today, he wrote the following, in Al-Sharq Al-Awsat (September 6, 2004), after a series of violent incidents involving Muslim extremist groups from Chechnya to Saudi Arabia to Iraq: "Self-cure starts with self-realization and confession. We should then run after our terrorist sons, in the full knowledge that they are the sour grapes of a deformed culture... The mosque used to be a haven, and the voice of religion used to be that of peace and reconciliation. Religious sermons were warm behests for a moral order and an ethical life. Then came the neo-Muslims. An innocent and benevolent religion, whose verses prohibit the felling of trees in the absence of urgent necessity, that calls murder the most heinous of crimes, that says explicitly that if you kill one person you have killed humanity as a whole, has been turned into a global message of hate and a universal war cry... We cannot clear our names unless we own up to the shameful fact that terrorism has become an Islamic enterprise; an almost exclusive monopoly, implemented by Muslim men and women. We cannot redeem our extremist youth, who commit all these heinous crimes, without confronting the Sheikhs who thought it ennobling to reinvent themselves as revolutionary ideologues, sending other people's sons and daughters to cer ~ Thomas L. Friedman

No one could be following us yet?" the Spaniard asked. "No one," the Sicilian assured him. "It would be inconceivable." "Absolutely inconceivable?" "Absolutely, totally, and, in all other ways, inconceivable," the Sicilian reassured him. "Why do you ask? ~ William Goldman

I learned lots of things those first few weeks. First and foremost, I learned what it meant to be a refugee. From the moment I stepped into Kakuma, I became a boy without a country. A refugee camp is a kind of no-man's-land. No one lives there by choice. You end up in places like Kakuma when you have no better option. Everyone who lived there just wanted to go home. ~ Lopez Lomong

The Coven

When they break your heart, run to a sister who will stroke your hair and remind you of what you are. When no one else understands, run to a sister who will hold you close and heal you with the kindest words. When the wound is fresh, your sisters are the only ones who know how to enchant away the pain. When a man scares you enough to choke on your own tears, text your sisters and they will hex him into hell for you. This is what covens will do: protect each other from the world, for this is what sisters do. ~ Nikita Gill

Well, at least it was the brother and not the one you practically molested."
I slap Shawna's arm. "I did not practically molest him!"
"No, but you wanted to."
"I most certainly - "
"Don't even lie to me, you wench! I know you too well. He had that whole bad boy thing going on. I'm surprised you didn't wrap your legs and your lips and everything else around him right then and there. ~ M. Leighton

I often think publishing a book is like doing a poo. Once it's ready for the world, you have to relinquish that control and let nature take its course. A few will be impressed by your creation, others will be disgusted. Plus, no one will enjoy your success and achievement in producing it as much as you did. ~ H.O. Charles

#8 - Feeling Peaceful - It is helpful to be at peace with your loved one's returning Home to God, in order to be better able to receive a comforting communication. Feeling peaceful is an emotion that is very hard to experience when you are, understandably, very upset as you go through the grieving process. But being emotionally overwrought can give out negative energy, thus, making it harder for your loved one to get through to you, or for you to even notice a sign from them. However, all things are possible with God, and He may bless you with an after-death communication, no matter what the circumstances, because He wants to comfort you and bring you peace. Pray for peace for your anguished heart. Pray for acceptance and comfort, so that you can go on with your life contented in knowing that you will be fully reunited once again. ~ Christine Duminiak

As delightful as Dr. Gibson is, she doesn't have the makings of a farmwife."
Ethan's brows lifted. "Are you thinking about taking a wife?"
West shrugged. "The nights can be long and quiet in the country," he admitted. "If I found a woman who was an interesting companion and attractive enough to bed... yes, I'd consider marrying her." He paused. "Better yet if she were educated. A sense of humor would be icing on the cake. Red hair isn't a requirement, but I do have a fatal weakness for it." West's mouth twisted with a self-mocking grin. "Of course, she'd have to be willing to overlook the fact that I was an undisciplined and obnoxious swill-tub until about three years ago." A nearly imperceptible look of bitterness flashed across his face before he masked it.
"Who is she?" Ethan asked softly.
"No one. An imaginary woman." Averting his gaze, West used the toe of his boot to flick a loose pebble to the side of the drive. "Who happens to despise me," he muttered.
Ethan regarded him with sympathetic amusement. "You might be able to change her opinion."
"Only if I could travel back in time and beat my former self to a pulp. ~ Lisa Kleypas

That's what it was supposed to be, but then we started meeting up for morning workouts, which led to a joint trip to the GNC, and then we discovered we both play chess, which led to inviting him over for a game night, and then I quoted Mallrats but he didn't get it, which led to a movie enlightenment mission and several movie-at-home nights…" I trail off, leaving the "etcetera etcetera" unspoken. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, I explain, "The more we hung out together, the more couple-y we got, and before I knew it we were buying extra toothbrushes to keep at our apartments and doing silly shit like giving each other keys. Add in the most amazing porn star sex ever, and it's apparently enough for me to want to have his puppy."

"You mean baby."

"God, no. You know better than that. I'm not the nurturing type."

"Yeah, well, you also used to say you weren't the falling in love type, either."

I narrow my eyes at her. "No one likes a wise-ass, Janey."

"Maybe not, but sometimes a hard-ass like you needs a wise-ass like me. ~ Gina L. Maxwell

I'll be up-front with you. I might hurt you. You're going in knowing that. I'm choosing the campaign. I'm choosing Congress, because it's what I want and what I believe in. Nothing, no one is getting in the way of me and the House of Representatives. ~ K.A. Linde

The church must suffer for speaking the truth, for pointing out sin, for uprooting sin. No one wants to have a sore spot touched, and therefore a society with so many sores twitches when someone has the courage to touch it and say: You have to treat that. You have to get rid of that. Believe in Christ. Be converted. ~ Oscar A. Romero

Before her was a man who wasted words on no one. If he said something, you could take the worth of his words to the bank. In her home was a man who had the skill and talent to be anyone and chose to be the best version of himself. ~ Sarah Winter

So you have chosen aloneness. You have chosen the security and the relative freedom of solitude, because there is no risk involved. You can stay up every night and watch your TV shows and eat ice cream out of the box and scroll through your Tumblr and never let your brain sit still, not even for a moment. You can fill your days up with books and coffees and trips to the store where you forget what you wanted the second you walk in the automatic sliding door. You can do so many little, pointless things throughout the day that all you can think of is how badly you want to sleep, how heavy your whole body is, how much your feet hurt. You can wear yourself out again and again on the pavement, and you do, and it feels good. No one will ever bridge that gap and point to your stomach or your hair or your eyes in the mirror and magically make you see the wonderful things about getting to be next to you. And maybe that's it, after all, this fear that no one will ever truly feel about you the way you want to be felt about. Maybe what you want is someone to make you love yourself, to put sense into all that positive rhetoric, to make it so the aloneness of TV and blasting music in your ears at all times isn't the most happy place you can think of. Maybe you want someone who makes you so sure of how wonderful things are that you cannot help but to tell them your feelings first, even at the risk of being humiliated. Because you will know that, when you're telling them you love them, what ~ Chelsea Fagan

There was nowhere for her to go. Not in the kitchen, not in the hallway, not in the bedroom. What she wanted was a little room of her own where she could go and jot down small things in her diary. Tatiana had no little room of her own. As a result she had no diary. Diaries, as she understood them from books, were supposed to be full of personal writings and filled with private words. Well, in Tatiana's world there were no private words. All private thoughts you kept in your head as you lay down next to another person, even if that other person happened to be your sister. Leo Tolstoy, one of her favorite writers, wrote a diary of his life as a young boy, an adolescent, a young man. That diary was meant to be read by thousands of people. That wasn't the kind of diary Tatiana wanted to keep. She wanted to keep one in which she could write down Alexander's name and no one would read it. She wanted to have a room where she could say his name out loud and no one would hear it. Alexander. ~ Paullina Simons

As Clover looked down the hillside her eyes filled with tears. If she could have spoken her thoughts, it would have been to say that this was not what they had aimed at when they had set themselves years ago to work for the overthrow of the human race. These scenes of terror and slaughter were not what they had looked forward to on that night when old Major first stirred them to rebellion. If she herself had had any picture of the future, it had been of a society of animals set free from hunger and the whip, all equal, each working according to his capacity, the strong protecting the weak, as she had protected the lost brood of ducklings with her foreleg on the night of Major's speech. Instead--she did not know why--they had come to a time when no one dared speak his mind, when fierce, growling dogs roamed everywhere, and when you had to watch your comrades torn to pieces after confessing to shocking crimes. There was no thought of rebellion or disobedience in her mind. She knew that, even as things were, they were far better off than they had been in the days of Jones, and that before all else it was needful to prevent the return of the human beings. Whatever happened she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out the orders that were given to her, and accept the leadership of Napoleon. But still, it was not for this that she and all the other animals had hoped and toiled. ~ George Orwell

To become a singer requires work, work, and again, work! It need not be in any special corner of the earth; there is no one spot that will do more for you than other places. It doesn't matter so much where you are if you have intelligence and a good ear. ~ Enrico Caruso

Expository preaching means you can't completely predetermine what your people will be hearing over the next few weeks or months. As the texts are opened, questions and answers emerge that no one might have seen coming. ~ Timothy Keller

Everyday you gotta wake up and be yourself, even if you suck, especially if you suck, because no one sucks like you suck. ~ Patrick Stump-Fall Out Boy

If the hour comes, and there's no-one to beg or blame but yourself, you learn that what we have in the end is just a handful more than what was born in us. That unique handful, what we add to what we are, is the only story of us that isn't told by someone else. ~ Gregory David Roberts

There was no one else, Livy. No one else got what you got. Those were our moments, and ours alone. ~ Lucia Franco

Forget about self-image and self-judgment. It's about self-love, and no one teaches you that at school. No one teaches you that if you accept and love yourself, nothing and no one can touch you.
This is the only face and body you're ever going to get, so be comfortable and happy in it. Own it. Own every aspect of who you are and present it to the world with the utmost pride. ~ Connor Franta

Like no one else ... you share that part of my mind that associates itself mostly with ideal things and places ... The impression thinking about you gives me is very closely linked with that given me by a lonely hillside or a sunny afternoon ... or books that have meant more to me than I can explain ... This is grand, but still it isn't enough for this world ... The earthly and obvious part of me longs to see and touch you and realise you as tangible. ~ Vera Brittain

He pulled me up into the world of advanced literature, where you wrote essays about a line of Dante, where nothing could be made complex enough, where art dealt with the supreme, not in a high-flown sense because it was the modernist canon with which we were engaged, but in the sense of the ungraspable, which was best illustrated by Blanchot's description of Orpheus's gaze, the night of the night, the negation of the negation, which of course was in some way above the trivial and in many ways wretched lives we lived, but what I learned was that also our ludicrously inconsequential lives, in which we could not attain anything of what we wanted, nothing, in which everything was beyond our abilities and power, had a part in this world, and thus also in the supreme, for books existed, you only had to read them, no one but myself could exclude me from them. You just had to reach up. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard

What the..." Ranulf barked behind her. "Where's the meat? The butter?"
Bronwyn smiled. It was going to be a hard few days for everyone at Hunswick,suddenly observing Advent, but it might inspire the new residents to not just enjoy the fruits of everyone's labor,but appreciate and contribute.
Turning around,Bronwyn pasted on what she hoped to be an incredulous look and said, "During Advent Fast?Now,my lord, you wouldn't want others to think you a heathen."
Ranulf picked up the mug,sniffed the tea with disdain,and put it back down before flopping into one of the hearth chairs. "I know a hell of a lot more about the topic than you.And I could care less about the opinion of others."
"I doubt that," Bronwyn murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, "on either point."
Ranulf leaned forward and grabbed the plate of fish and potatoes. He took several bites and waved his fork around the platter. "The Church calls for their followers to celebrate the season of Advent the four weeks before Christmas, which is nonsense because I know of no one who rejoices in the idea of starvation and...abstinence."
Bronwyn's heartbeat suddenly doubled its pace and she had to fight to remain looking relaxed and unaffected. "I believe humility is a large purpose behind the fast."
"And control," Ranulf replied with a grunt. "If I kept such an absurd custom, I and my men would have starved many a year. ~ Michele Sinclair

Perhaps, Izabel, you should stop worrying about what you don't possess and focus all of your energy on what you do. No one can be good at everything. ~ J.A. Redmerski

Those who approach their jobs and careers with enthusiasm always find plenty of opportunities, while those who complain about no one ever giving them a chance are merely observers of life. When you are determined that you will not allow others to determine your future for you, when you refuse to allow temporary setbacks to defeat you, you are destined for great success. The opportunities will always be there for you. ~ Napoleon Hill

Silas nods and turns to back the car up, accidently brushing a hand against my shoulders as he does so.
"Sorry," he says under his breath, like he's whispering in church. I shake my head as Scarlett settles her long arms and legs in the backseat and uses her cloak as a blanket.
Still trying to lean somewhere between the door of death and Silas's shoulder, I stare out the window as we lumber out of town. The road is smooth, hypnotic, with the dotted lines vanishing rhythmically before us. I glance back at my sister. She's fallen asleep, and Screwtape is casting her dark looks, as if she's to blame for his predicament.
I looked toward Silas, trying to appear as if I'm just glancing out his window. Really, I want to study him intensely. He's wearing one of his many nearly threadbare T-shirts, jeans that are soft from washing, wavy hair . . . Everything about him begs to be touched . . .
"You're nervous," Silas says suddenly.
"What? No!" I answer sharply. Am I that obvious?
Silas raises an eyebrow and laughs.
"It makes sense. I mean, you and Lett have lived in Ellison forever." Right . . . right. He's talking about the trip, not my resisting the temptation to fall on him. We're silent for a moment, nearly tangible awkwardness floating around the front seats. Silas drums his fingers on the steering wheel. ~ Jackson Pearce

I imagine the game wouldn't be the same in the light," Scarlett answered. "People think no one sees all the nasty things they do in the dark. The foul acts they commit, or the lies they tell as part of the game. Caraval takes place at night because you like to watch, and see what people do when they think there are no consequences. ~ Stephanie Garber

Survival and persistence, sung defiantly in the high notes of the diva, are no small feats in a world that wishes fervently for one's nonexistence and/or silent complicity in one's own exploitation. The narcissistic self-regard implied in the negative definition of the diva is a radical insistence on self-love when no one else loves you, when you are not, according to social norms, worthy of being loved at all, but only of being desired in a way that uses you up or consumes you. To say that diva citizenship cannot change the world is to accept a meaning of "the world" that aligns it only with the privileged. An investigation of the real function of diva citizenship has to start by asking who these acts are for, and whether the very fact of having something for herself can change a person, who might then go on to change the world just by surviving in it for one more day. ~ Amy Gentry

Kershaw had long ago realized, apparently, that dealing with Brits was tricky. You had to listen to what a Brit was saying - which was invariably that he thought XYZ was a terrific idea and he hoped it went very well for you - while at the same time paying heed to the greasy, nauseous suspicion you had that, although every word and phrase indicated approval, somehow the sum of the whole was that you'd have to be a mental pygmy to come up with this plan and a complete fucking idiot to pursue it. After six years working with the Brits in various theatres he'd come to the conclusion that they didn't do it on purpose. The thing was, Brits actually thought that subtext was plain text. To a Brit, the modern English language was vested with hundreds of years of unbroken history and cultural nuance, so that every single word had a host of implications depending on who said it to whom, when, and how. British soldiers, for example, gave entire reports to their commanders by the way they said 'good morning, sir' and then had to spend half an hour telling them the detail, which was why the Brits always looked bored in briefings. They could sense the trajectory of the conversation, knew the bad news was coming now and the good news now and that there was a question on the end which needed thinking about. With a bit of work they could deduce the question, too, but they always waited politely for it to be asked so that no one felt rushed. ~ Nick Harkaway

She was stunned when he suddenly pushed off the sofa and knelt on one knee before her. "Libby, you have no cause to help me," he said in an earnest voice. "I have been nothing but trouble to you and your family, but does that mean we are destined to be enemies in all things? Because I think you are a woman of great quality. I watch you march into town armed with nothing but the strength of your compassion for a family in need. You are smart and courageous, and I find this very attractive. ~ Elizabeth Camden

Be your own worst judge, and no one else's harsh judgment would ever bother you again; because you have done this already before. ~ Hussein A. Al-Banawi

I think women should have choices and should be able to do what they like, and I think it's a great choice to stay at home and raise kids, just as it's a great choice to have a career. But I don't entirely approve of people who get advanced degrees and then decide to stay at home. I think if society gives you the gift of one of those educations and you take a spot in a very competitive institution, then you should do something with that education to help others ... But I also don't approve of working parents who look down on stay-at-home mothers and think they smother their children. Working parents are every bit as capable of spoiling children as ones who don't work - maybe even more so when they indulge their kids out of guilt. The best think anyone can teach their children is the obligation we all have toward each other - and no one has a monopoly on teaching that. ~ Will Schwalbe

I'm walking off the dance floor when I see him. Peter, in a suit, standing to the side, beside the dogwood tree. He looks so handsome I can hardly stand it. I cross the backyard, and he watches me the whole time. My heart is pounding so hard. Is he here for me? Or did he just come because he promised my dad?
When I'm standing in front of him, I say, "You came."
Peter looks away. "Of course I came."
Softly I say, "I wish I could take back the things I said the other night. I don't even remember all of them."
Looking down, he says, "But you meant them, right? So it's a good thing you said them then, because somebody had to and you were right."
"Which part?" I whisper.
"About UNC. About me not transferring there." He lifts his head, his eyes wounded. "But you should have told me my mom talked to you."
I take a shaky breath. "You should have told me you were thinking about transferring! You should've told me how you were feeling, period. You shut down after graduation; you wouldn't let me in. You kept saying everything was going to be fine."
"Because I was fucking scared, okay!" he bursts out. He looks around to see if anyone heard, but the music is loud, and everyone is dancing; no one is looking at us, and it's like we are alone here in this backyard.
"What were you so scared about?" I whisper.
His hands tighten into fists at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out raw, like he hasn't used it in a while. "I was sc ~ Jenny Han

No, you have to look like everyone else, then you'll get by and no one will suspect you. ~ Louise Fitzhugh

You are ultimately responsible for your life and no one else. ~ John Spender

Because when I looked at you across that table at the diner, no one else existed. And whether or not anything happens between you and me, it took meeting you to show me what I was missing. ~ J.R. Ward

Sensing an ally, Priss took two steps toward her, but Trace pulled her up short by grabbing her arm.
"No, you don't," he told her, and no matter how Priss yanked and pulled, she couldn't free herself.
"Settle down, will you?" Trace said near her ear. "You're not helping things."
The woman's expression pinched even more.
Dare started toward her in a ground-eating stride. "Back inside, Molly," he said, sounding more cajoling than commanding. "I'll explain in private."
Like hell! Priss didn't want to lose whatever opportunities this might be, so she shouted, "Molly, help me. Trace drugged me to bring me here, and Dare manhandled me when I tried to escape." And before Trace could muzzle her, if indeed that was his intent, she added, "Some other guy stole my cat!"
The woman's mouth dropped open, then firmed shut again. With one raised hand, she halted Dare's progress. Dare dropped his head and groaned. ~ Lori Foster

He overheard the director talking to one of the cameramen. The cameraman was explaining that he couldn't get a good long shot on the exterior because someone had set up a fake graveyard right in the plaza.
"Kids just playing around, I guess, but it's morbid; we'll have to get rid of it, maybe bring in some sod to - "
"No," Albert said.
"We're almost ready for you," the director assured him.
"That's not a fake graveyard. Those aren't fake graves. No one was playing around."
"You're saying those . . . those are actually . . ."
"What do you think happened here?" Albert asked in a soft voice. "What do you think this was?" Absurdly, embarrassingly, he had started to cry. "Those are kids buried there. Some of them were torn apart, you know. By coyotes. By . . . by bad people. Shot. Crushed. Like that. Some of those kids in the ground there couldn't take it, the hunger and the fear . . . some of those kids out there had to be cut down from the ropes they used to hang themselves. Early on, when we still had any animals? I had a crew go out and hunt down cats. Cats and dogs and rats. Kill them. Other kids to skin them . . . cook them up."
There were a dozen crew people in the McDonald's. None spoke or moved.
Albert brushed away tears and sighed. "Yeah. So don't mess with the graves. Okay? Other than that, we're good to go. ~ Michael Grant

Doctor Nye," Clarabelle said.
The spider-like being turned to them. "Zombies," it said, mildly surprised. "And a blue-haired girl."
"My name is Clarabelle. I'm here looking for a job... I have no medical or scientific training to speak of, and no inclination to learn, and I pick up things fairly slowly because of my short attention span..."
"Clarabelle... Clarabelle... You worked as Kenspeckle Grouse's assistant, did you not?"
"One of them. He fired all the others."
"But not you?"
"He fired me on the second day, but I kept coming in. I had nowhere else to go."
"And then you killed him."
"Yes."
"A Remnant squirmed inside you, and you killed Kenspeckle Grouse."
"Yes."
It grinned. "You're hired. ~ Derek Landy

Adam's reply reflects his fear, as well as a note of deep sorrow. But there's no confession. Adam seems to have realized that it was pointless to try to plead innocence, but neither did he make a full confession. What he did was try to pass off the blame. He immediately pointed the finger at the one closest to him: Eve.
Also implicit in Adam's words (The Woman whom YOU gave) was an accusation against God. So quickly did sin corrupt Adam's mind that in his blame shifting, he did not shy away from making God Himself an acessary to the crime. This is so typical of sinners seeking to exonerate themselves that the New Testament epistle of James expressly instructs us, "Let no one say when he is tempted, "I am tempted by God"; for God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He Himself tempt anyone. But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed"James 1:13. Adam, however, was subtly trying to put at least some of the blame on God himself. ~ John F. MacArthur Jr.

That drawer was full of photographs of her. She showed me any number, old and recent.

"All dead," I told her.

She turned her head and glanced at me quickly:

"Dead?"

"Yes, for all they appear to be alive."

"Even this one with the smile?"

"Yes. And this pensive one: and the one with the eyes drooped."

"But how can they be dead, if I here am alive?"

"Ah, you, yes; because you do not see yourself now. But when you are in front of a mirror, the moment you look at yourself again, you are no longer alive."

"And why not?"

"Because, in order to behold yourself, you must for a moment halt life within you. Excuse me, but seeing that you go to the photographer's so often - when the photographer, in front of you with his camera, tells you to be sure not to move, you must have noticed - life is suspended in you - and you feel that such suspension cannot last more than a second - it is like turning into a statue - For life is constant motion, and one can never really see one's self."

"You mean to say that I, while living, have never seen myself?"

"Never; not as I can see you. But I see a likeness of you that is mine and mine alone; it is assuredly not yours. You, while living, have possibly been able to catch no more than a bare glimpse of your own in some snapshot or other that has been made of you; and it has come as an unpleasant surprise; it may even have p ~ Luigi Pirandello

Waiting patiently doesn't suit you. I can see you have a great deal of water in your personality. Water never waits. It changes shape and flows around things, and finds the secret paths no one else has thought about.
[Mameha] ~ Arthur Golden