Make Something Of Myself Quotes

I want to make something of myself. And this tattooed package of sin standing before me is one distraction I cannot afford, no matter how how tempting he might be. ~ Kelley R. Martin

I want to make something of myself. I believe it's called a statue. ~ Jarod Kintz

If I have anything to give you through camera, it must be of myself. ... A gnawing burns inside ... to make something of myself worth giving. ~ Minor White

Although I had once pinned all my hopes on putting myself through school, believing I could thereby make something of myself, I now realized the futility of this all too clearly. No amount of struggling for an education is going to help one get ahead in this world. And what does it mean to get ahead anyway? is there any more worthless lot than the so-called great people of this world? What is so admirable about being looked up to by others? I do not live for other. What I had to achieve was my own freedom, my own satisfaction. I had to be myself. ~ Kaneko Fumiko

I was in college that first semester, and I was like, 'Wow, this isn't who I am. This isn't what I want to do.' I was like, 'Oh God, I'm going to have to go out and make something of myself, and I have no clue what that is.' ~ Channing Tatum

And really, the basis, I think, of achieving some success in what I want to do today comes from my mother's push to get me to read and to make something of myself from the standpoint of an education. ~ Sam Donaldson

I don't just want to catch some guy and have a bunch of kids. I want to make something of myself. ~ Danielle Steel

I knew I would make something of myself. I just had to decide what that was going to be. ~ Ronda Rousey

Might paint something I might want to hang here someday, might write something I might want to say to you someday, might do something I'd be proud of someday. Mark my words, I might be something someday. ~ Sara Quin

If I must be faithful to someone or something, I have, first of all, have to be faithful to myself. ~ Paulo Coelho

The dissatisfaction and internal conflict that I had felt throughout my life wasn't due to my husband or my marriage or my career. It was because for the majority of my life I had been trying to be something that I wasn't. I was not true to myself. ~ Louisa Leontiades

I remind myself nearly every day of something that a doctor told me six months before my friend Pammy died. This was a doctor who always gave me straight answers. When I called on this one particular night, I was hoping she could put a positive slant on some distressing developments. She couldn't, but she said something that changed my life. "Watch her carefully right now," she said, "because she's teaching you how to live".
I remind myself of this when I cannot get any work done: to live as if I am dying, because the truth is we are all terminal on this bus. To live as if we are dying gives us a chance to experience some real presence. ~ Anne Lamott

The only reason we write - well, the only reason why I write; maybe I shouldn't generalize - is so that I can find out something about myself. Writers have this narcissistic obsession about how we got to be who we are. I have to understand my ancestors - my father, his mother and her mother - to understand who I am. It all leads back to the narcissistic pleasure of discovering yourself. ~ Sandra Cisneros

O, Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who turn to you. Amen.
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When we meet someone and fall in love, we have a sense that the whole universe is on our side. I saw this happen today as the sun went down. And yet if something goes wrong, there is nothing left! No herons, no distant music, not even the taste of his lips. How is it possible for the beauty that was there only minutes before to vanish so quickly?
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Life moves very fast. It rushes us from heaven to hell in a matter of seconds.
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I smile and say nothing,
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If I must be faithful to someone or something, then I have, first of all, to be faithful to myself.
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Everything is an illusion - and that applies to material as well as spiritual things.
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She had spent a lot of her life saying 'no' to things to which she would have liked to say 'yes',
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My dear, it's better to be unhappy with a rich man than happy with a poor man, and over there you'll have far more chance of becoming an unhappy rich woman.
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Love isn't that important. I didn't love your father at first, but money buys everything, even true love.
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Hail Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who turn to you. Amen.
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She would never find what she was looking for if she couldn't express herself.
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At the moment, I'm far too lonely to think about love, but I have to believe that it will happen, that I will find a job and that I am here because I chos ~ Paulo Coelho

The town was sunk in a kind of crystal ball; everyone seemed to be asleep (transcendentally asleep!) no matter if they were walking or sitting outside. Around five the sky clouded over and at six it began to rain. The streets cleared all at once. I had the thought that if it was as if autumn had unsheathed a claw and scratched: everything was coming apart. The tourists running on the sidewalks in search of shelter, the shopkeepers pulling tarps over the merchandise displayed in the street, the increasing number of shop windows closed until next summer. Whether I felt pity or scorn when I saw this, I don't know. Detached from any external stimulus, the only thing I could see or feel with any clarity was myself. Everything else had been bombarded by something dark; movie sets consigned to dust and oblivion, as if for good. ~ Roberto Bolano

I found I was able to relieve people not only of pain but of fear. It's strange how many people suffer from it. I don't mean fear of closed spaces and fear of heights, but fear of death and, what's worse, fear of life. Often they're people who seem in the best of health, prosperous, without any worry, and yet they're tortured by it. I've sometimes thought it was the most besetting humour of men, and I asked myself at one time if it was due to some deep animal instinct that man has inherited from that primeval something that first felt the thrill of life. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

Lincoln was drifting in and out of consciousness. He took shallow breaths and his lips were blue. Connecting with him had been something that I had ben trying very hard not to do of late. How could I open myself to him? My mind drifted to the dream I'd had, to the stranger who said he was me. Was he my angel maker? With all I now knew, it seemed more plausible that the dream had really meant something. I remembered the painting, the colors. And I remembered the question: What are we to become?
I didn't realize I had spoken aloud until Lincoln whispered, Everything we can. ~ Jessica Shirvington

After many years of training myself, strong emotions are now a trigger for me to look at something. I think that all emotions are triggers for us to grow in our level of consciousness. ~ LeVar Burton

I'm so sorry," she says, and she's wringing her hands, looking away from me. "I'm so, so sorry."
I notice what she's wearing.
It's a dark-green dress with fitted sleeves; a simple cut made of stretch cotton that clings to the soft curves of her figure. It complements the flecks of green in her eyes in a way I couldn't have anticipated. It's one of the many dresses I chose for her. I thought she might enjoy having something nice after being caged as an animal for so long. And I can't quite explain it, but it gives me a strange sense of pride to see her wearing something I picked out myself.
"I'm sorry," she says for the third time.
I'm again struck by how impossible it is that she's here. In my bedroom. Staring at me without my shirt on. Her hair is so long it falls to the middle of her back; I have to clench my fists against this unbidden need to run my hands through it. She's so beautiful. ~ Tahereh Mafi

I sat looking at her with rapt attention. My heart was thumping, the blood coursing warmly through my veins. What a wonderful pleasure to be sitting in a human dwelling again, hear a clock ticking, and talk with a lively young girl instead of with myself!
Why don't you say something?"
Ah, how sweet you are!" I said. "I'm sitting here getting fascinated by you, at this moment I'm thoroughly fascinated. I can't help it. You are the strangest person that... Sometimes your eyes are so radiant, I've never seen anything like it, they look like flowers. Eh? No, no, maybe not like flowers but... I'm madly in love with you, and it won't do me a bit of good. What's your name? Really, you must tell me what your name is..."
No, what's your name? Goodness, I almost forgot again! I was thinking all day yesterday that I must ask you. Well, that is, not all day yesterday, I certainly didn't think about you all day yesterday."
Do you know what I've called you? I have called you Ylajali. How do you like it? Such a gliding sound-"
Ylajali?"
Yes."
Is it a foreign language?"
Hmm. No, it's not."
Well, it isn't ugly. ~ Knut Hamsun

I find myself daydreaming about him when I wake up in the morning, in school when something reminds me of him, and when I fall asleep at night ~ Simone Elkeles

I want hard stories, I demand them from myself. Hard stories are worth the difficulty. It seems to me the only way I have forgiven anything, understood anything, is through that process of opening up to my own terror and pain and reexamining it, re-creating it in the story, and making it something different, making it meaningful - even if the meaning is only in the act of the telling. ~ Dorothy Allison

I paid the taxi driver, got out with my suitcase, surveyed my surroundings, and just as I was turning to ask the driver something or get back into the taxi and return forthwith to Chillán and then to Santiago, it sped off without warning, as if the somewhat ominous solitude of the place had unleashed atavistic fears in the driver's mind. For a moment I too was afraid. I must have been a sorry sight standing there helplessly with my suitcase from the seminary, holding a copy of Farewell's Anthology in one hand. Some birds flew out from behind a clump of trees. They seemed to be screaming the name of that forsaken village, Querquén, but they also seemed to be enquiring who: quién, quién, quién. I said a hasty prayer and headed for a wooden bench, there to recover a composure more in keeping with what I was, or what at the time I considered myself to be. Our Lady, do not abandon your servant, I murmured, while the black birds, about twenty-five centimetres in length, cried quién, quién, quién. Our Lady of Lourdes, do not abandon your poor priest, I murmured, while other birds, about ten centimetres long, brown in colour, or brownish, rather, with white breasts, called out, but not as loudly, quién, quién, quién, Our Lady of Suffering, Our Lady of Insight, Our Lady of Poetry, do not leave your devoted subject at the mercy of the elements, I murmured, while several tiny birds, magenta, black, fuchsia, yellow and blue in colour, wailed quién, quién, quién, at which point a cold win ~ Roberto Bolano

Something weird moved through me, a feeling of familiarity, and as I stood in front of my locker, I found myself thinking of the one bright thing in a past full of shadows and darkness.
I thought about the boy who made my chest hurt, the one who'd promised forever.
It had been four years since I'd seen him or even heard him speak. Four years of trying to erase everything that had to do with that portion of my childhood, but I remembered him. I wondered about him.
How could I not? I always would.
He had been the sole reason I survived the house we'd grown up in. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I can text in complete sentences. Oh, yeah, it's a skill." He smiled, proud of his accomplishments. "And, thanks to my mom being a competitive dancer as a teen, I know how to do the Lindy hop and the jitterbug."
I sat bolt upright, and Akinli rolled his eyes.
"I swear, if you tell me you can jitterbug, I'm going to . . . I don't even know. Set something on fire. No one can dance like that."
I pursed my lips and dusted off my shoulder, a thing I'd seen Elizabeth do when she was bragging.
As if he was accepting a challenge, he shrugged off his backpack and stood, holding out a hand for me.
I took it and positioned myself in front of him as he shook his head, grinning.
"All right, we'll take this slow. Five, six, seven, eight."
In unison, we rock stepped and triple stepped, falling into the rhythm in our head. After a minute, he got brave and swung me around, lining me up for those peppy kicks I loved so much.
People walked by, pointing and laughing, but it was one of those moments when I knew we weren't being mocked; we were being envied.
We stepped on each other's toes more than once, and after he accidentally knocked his head into my shoulder, he threw his hands up.
"Unbelievable," he said, almost as if he was complaining. "I can't wait to tell my mom this. She's gonna think I'm lying. All those years dancing in the kitchen thinking I was special, and then I run across a master. ~ Kiera Cass

In every career, you are balancing or negotiating tricky waters. But, I think that's been something nice that comedy has been able to give me a little bit more. I have the ability to laugh at myself and hopefully not take all of this whole world too seriously. ~ Anna Faris

He was still holding his jacket around me and standing extremely close. The heat from his body called to me, summoning desire I'd only ever read about. As I gazed up into his sweet face, I couldn't deny that I longed for his kiss. I tried to fight it down, to convince myself I couldn't let this progress any further. It had already gone too far. However, something inside conveyed an unspoken request and, as if to answer me, he slowly leaned down.
I closed my eyes, feeling the sweetness of his breath graze my mouth, shivering, awaiting the tender passion of his kiss. And when his mouth finally pressed against mine, all time stopped. Soft and passionate, the heat of his lips warmed the cold of mine. The world around us faded. No sound. No movement. No time. ~ Christi Anna

I don't much like opera, either. Especially Wagner. There's something about Wagner that's just too piss-German, too fucking Bavarian for a Prussian like me. I like my music to be every bit as vulgar as I am myself. I like a bit of innuendo and stocking-top when a woman's singing a song. ~ Philip Kerr

This is…mad…" Anything this wonderful had to be some form of insanity.
"Then I've been mad for twelve years." He tugged at her nipple with his teeth, and she gasped. "Because I imagined this often. Holding you…touching you." He laved her nipple with his tongue as if to soothe it. "I tried not to torture myself, but…it was impossible that I should never indulge in…the fantasy of you like this, in my arms again."
He'd thought of her all these years? And done nothing about it?
"You could have…had me whenever you wanted," she choked out, even as she thrilled to his words. "You just didn't…want me."
"Not true." His breathing labored, he dragged his mouth from her breast to kiss his way back up to her throat. "I couldn't allow myself to want you. There's a difference."
None that she could see. But just now, she could hardly think. One of Dom's hands worked its magic on her breast, his mouth snaked around to cup her derriere and pull her flush against him.
Something hard pressed into her through her skirts. What the devil?
"Jane," he rasped against her lips. "My darling Jane…still mine…"
The possessive note in his voice drove out every other thought. She was losing the fight against him.
Sweet Lord, she couldn't. Mustn't, until she was sure he wouldn't become Dom the Almighty again. Until she was sure he wouldn't trample her into dust, the way he had before when things hadn't been exactly how he wanted them. She couldn't go through that a ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I don't like precious things; I don't spend thousands of dollars on jewellery for myself. I like going into a junk store and finding something for five dollars. That's my style. ~ Erin Wasson

The test for me, when I read other people's scripts, is whether I feel like there's something about me that is the best person to tell this story. I have a pretty high bar for myself. There's a lot of scripts that I read and think, "Oh, this is great, but I think there are 50 other directors who could bring this to the cinema." ~ Francesca Gregorini

I wish to create a piece of work that produces a permanent mark in the record book of human existence. I also write to insulate myself from leading a meaningless life. Awareness of an inescapable mortality urges me to write at a frantic pace, in a hysterical attempt to assign a purpose to my life by creating something external that endures. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

I made sure that instead of people making fun of me, like every comedian probably says, I made fun of myself first so they would get distracted and just laugh. I was pretty brutally picked on for a while growing up. It was always the really pretty girls, the hot girls and then there was me. So I had to do something to get any sort of attention. ~ Eliza Coupe

Punishment? You don't have any right to punish me. And I can curse. I choose not to most of the time, but don't think it doesn't go through my head, asshole. I was trying to give you something. I was trying to give you my body."
"That's where you fucked up, little girl. I don't want your body. I want your soul. I want your everything. And I definitely want your orgasms. I want them all. I'll be a greedy bastard, savoring them and hoarding them all for myself. You wanted to give me your body? I can buy that on a street corner, sweetheart. You're the one who's being selfish now."
"How is it selfish to offer to have sex? I don't understand what you want."
"First off, I want you to stop hiding yourself from me. You're the one making this tawdry by pretending it's dirty and not worthy of the light of day."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"We're going to do this my way. We tried yours and it didn't work, so I'm taking control. I should have done it in the first place. ~ Lexi Blake

You are telling me that I did something because I was going to do something."
"Well, didn't you? You were there."
"No, I didn't - no ... well, maybe I did, but it didn't feel like it."
"Why should you expect it to? It was something totally new to your experience."
"But ... but - " Wilson took a deep breath and got control of himself. Then he reached back into his academic philosophical concepts and produced the notion he had been struggling to express. "It denies all reasonable theories of causation. You would have me believe that causation can be completely circular. I went through because I came back from going through to persuade myself to go through. That's silly."
"Well, didn't you? ~ Robert A. Heinlein

I'm not much older now than I was then, but in a lot of ways, obviously, I'm a different person. So it is easy for me to recognize that I made some good decisions and some bad ones. But it's telling that, with this, I knew it was a bad idea even then but I still couldn't control myself. Knowing something is a bad idea does not always decrease the odds that you will do it. If I had examined my motivations on this one, I probably wouldn't have liked what I found, so I didn't. ~ Hank Green

There's nothing worse than the frustration of having somebody who you feel doesn't get what you're doing, trying to turn it into something else. It's a very, very annoying and sort of frustrating thing and I just never wanted to go through it. I was very fortunate as I came up through the film business that I was able to insulate myself from that. ~ George Lucas

That was a really rare event. I don't think It's an exaggeration to say that It was the one and only time in my life that I refused something offered to me. My unhappiness was the happiness of a person who could not say no. I had been intimidated by the fear that if I declined something offered me, a yawning crevice would open between the other person's heart and myself which could never be mended through all eternity ~ Osamu Dazai

I like the financial security because I know how hard it is for so many people who struggle to earn a living. I'm grateful I don't have to worry about money and I can live very freely and do something I love and get paid very well to do it. I tell my friends to slap me if they ever think I'm getting full of myself. ~ Jennifer Lawrence

In college, unable to be "special" - or in demand - as a girl, I made myself useful, even essential, in my microcosm - as a writer and photographer for the band, particularly for the band director. My "specialness" was to produce something of value, not to look like something (with that different kind of "value"), so I was still fundamentally invisible, but had a significant purpose. ~ Cris Mazza

They told me the drugs would take away the pain.
They told me the drugs would help me sleep.
They are wrong. The pain of losing Damien hasn't gone away. And I hardly ever sleep.
There's a part of me that wishes I could close my eyes and shut out the world, but I can't. I can't because I know behind my eyelids, I'll see him. He'll be there looking so fresh and alive. His skin will be vibrant with color, his blue blue eyes sparkling. He'll flash me his radiant smile and for a few minutes, I'll actually believe that he didn't die.
I'll believe it and then I wake up to discover that my mind is torturing me with what could have been and I lose control of my emotions.
I scream.
Sob.
Hug my knees to my chest.
Rock back and forth.
Tug at my hair.
I pace the length of my shoebox room and throw myself into the padded white walls. I pray for someone or something to come along and take the pain away. I pray for someone or something to erase my memory so that I'll never have to think of Damien again. And so that I'll never have to live with the painful reminder that I am the reason he died.
Damien died for me.
And for love.
And I'm not quite sure what else.
Maybe to prove a point. ~ Lauren Hammond

It almost takes people by surprise when I'm not a big talker. Because I'm known as being sort of a loud mouth. I have a lot to say. But I try to be more thoughtful with my comments or reactions, unless it's something witty or hysterical that I just can't keep myself from blurting or tweeting! ~ Natalie Maines

I just love the idea of going into a room and creating something by myself. ~ Diane Warren

I had to ask myself, why I was sensing a twinge of something that felt suspiciously like nostalgia. But starlight can do that to a person. ~ Linda Gillard

Someone said once that they'd never heard of a crime they couldn't imagine committing, and I realized then that if I had a daughter and she had a rabbit and that rabbit was alone with me and I was feeling the way I felt right now and I had a way to kill that rabbit and the time to spend killing that rabbit then killing the rabbit was something I could imagine myself possibly doing or at least considering doing or being on the edge of doing. And smearing a husband with the blood wasn't such a far step after that if you had a desire to smear your husband with blood and smearing someone with blood was something I could imagine a situation calling for because there were at least a few people in this world that I wouldn't not like to see smeared with blood - one person being Werner for fucking my plans, for sending me back out into a life with my wildebeest, to figure out a way to live here and I didn't want to do that and I didn't know how to do that and I wasn't sure how I was going to do that - ~ Catherine Lacey

And what enriched me while reading Adorno, for example, lay not in what I read but in the perception of myself while I was reading. I was someone who read Adorno! And in this heavy, intricate, detailed, precise language whose aim was to elevate thought ever higher, and where every period was set like a mountaineer's cleat, there was something else, this particular approach to the mood of reality, the shadow of these sentences that could evoke in me a vague desire to use the language with this particular mood on something real, on something living. Not on an argument, but on a lynx, for example, or on a blackbird or a cement mixer. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard

A friendly voice seldom reaches me nowadays. I am alone now, absurdly alone; and in the course of my relentless and underground struggle against everything that human beings till now have revered and loved, I have imperceptibly become something like a lair myself - something hidden away, which people do not find, even if they go out and look for it. But people do not go out in search of such things ... ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

I made many decisions, some awful and others brilliant, but I found ways to keep that openness in my soul that meant more to me than breathing. I told them over the years what I was doing, how I was trying what no one in my family had ever tried to do. When I was failing, I admitted that as well, and they listened politely. I also knew that's all they could do. One lonely night in Connecticut, I pulled myself from a window's ledge. No one else next to me. Another day I chose to do something someone like me should have never accomplished, and yet I did, and kept going. I learned to recognize when others, like Jean, were much better than me, because they had faith in my soul. I believed in very little, but I kept going until I would get tired or defeated, and then I would take time to discover another wall to throw myself at. I was, and I am, and I will be, a peculiar kind of immigrant's son. I got old, and that made everything better, including me. ~ Sergio Troncoso

We want a little light to live by. A start somewhere. Little steps for little feet. Or even something commanding, scriptural or mighty. I myself am discouraged to finding a hot lead on the Altogether. Like every child of the century deluded enough to keep his head out of the noose, I expect God's Mercy in the end. Nevertheless, I frequently feel that anybody's refusal to commit suicide is a little fey. Walking about as though nothing were wrong is just too studied for the alert ~ Thomas McGuane

And if I may pursue this subject farther I would suggest that the whole matter of imaginative literature depends upon this faculty of seeing the universe, from the aeonian pebble of the wayside to the raw suburban street as something new, unheard of, marvellous, finally, miraculous. The good people
amongst whom I naturally class myself
feel that everything is miraculous; they are continually amazed at the strangeness of the proportion of all things. The bad people, or scientists as they are sometimes called, maintain that nothing is properly an object of awe or wonder since everything can be explained. They are duly punished. ~ Arthur Machen

I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, ignoring the bite of the frosty air on my bare skin. I launched myself in the direction of the door, fumbling around until I found it. I tried shaking the handle, jiggling it, still thinking, hoping, praying that this was some big birthday surprise, and that by the time I got back inside, there would be a plate of pancakes at the table and Dad would bring in the presents, and we could - we could - we could pretend like the night before had never happened, even with the evidence in the next room over.
The door was locked.
"I'm sorry!" I was screaming. Pounding my fists against it. "Mommy, I'm sorry! Please!"
Dad appeared a moment later, his stocky shape outlined by the light from inside of the house. I saw Mom's bright-red face over his shoulder; he turned to wave her off and then reached over to flip on the overhead lights.
"Dad!" I said, throwing my arms around his waist. He let me keep them there, but all I got in return was a light pat on the back.
"You're safe," he told me, in his usual soft, rumbling voice.
"Dad - there's something wrong with her," I was babbling. The tears were burning my cheeks. "I didn't mean to be bad! You have to fix her, okay? She's…she's…"
"I know, I believe you."
At that, he carefully peeled my arms off his uniform and guided me down, so we were sitting on the step, facing Mom's maroon sedan. He was fumbling in his pockets for something, listening to me as I told ~ Alexandra Bracken

I had not yet fallen in love, but I was in love with the idea of it, and this feeling that something was missing around me made me despise myself for not being more anxious to satisfy the need. I began to look around for some object for my love, since I badly wanted to love something. I had no liking for the safe path without pitfalls, for although my real need was for you, my God, who are the food of the soul, I was not aware of this hunger. ~ Augustine Of Hippo

So tonight I reach for my journal again. This is the first time I've done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I'm scared they will never leave. I say that I don't want to take the drugs anymore, but I'm frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I will never really pull my life together.
In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing on the page:

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it - I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and Braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship - the lending of a hand from
me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace - reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glance of myself in ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I see myself as a student. I would never call myself a master or a maestro. If you take the path of the student, that means that you have to try a little bit of everything in the hopes that you're going to learn something or strike some kind of new note or new sound or new expression in the process. I'm not going for grades. I'm going for an education. That means I'm going to continue experimenting and trying new things to try to evolve and learn. ~ Nicolas Cage