The artist strives to reflect the desolation and anxiety that accompanies one’s loss of identity.
There’s a part of me that is unfamiliar to myself. And I keep finding myself there.
You’re the only person who really knows who I am and still likes me anyway.[to Luther]
You don’t get to quit who you are.
I know who I am, Linda. I know who I am and I’m all right with it. Finally. I can live with it.
You can hide your identity, but you can’t hide who you are.
No one is responsible for the family they are born into. All that matters is who they decide to be.
Who we were does not dictate who we will be. But often, it’s a pretty good indication.
We’re all in costumes all the time, trying to become the thing we’re wearing.
We are who we are. We kill people, then we eat breakfast.[to Baldwin]
We all come from somewhere. We carry that place with us wherever we go. That never leaves our hearts. Not entirely.
Sometimes the best way to save someone is to be yourself.