Lisa Unger Quotes

Every man is crucified upon the cross of himself.

My reasons to live Were my reasons to die But at least they were mine Now I've freedom unbound Cut the laces of life

I am a spy in the house of me. I report back from the front lines of the battle that is me. I am somewhat nonplused by the event that is my life.

I'd rather lose all my stuff than lose myself, because I've done that before, and that feels way worse.

Balance the cost of the soul you lost with the dreams you lightly sold.

If you realize what the real problem is-losing yourself-you realize that this itself is the ultimate trial.

There's a million reasons why I should give you up. But the heart wants what it wants.

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

I felt like I was literally losing myself as being the joyful, spiritual, passionate, exciting woman that I naturally had been.

All through the night, she battled herself. Or battled to know herself. She fell apart and then put herself back together and then she fell apart again and put herself back together, over and over.

That which oppresses me, is it my soul trying to come out in the open, or the soul of the world knocking at my heart for entrance?

We're so quick to cut away pieces of ourselves to suit a particular relationship, a job, a circle of friends, incessantly editing who we are until we fit in.

As she stood in the darkened room and watched my sister and father, I knew one of things that heaven meant. I had a choice, and it was not to divide my family in my heart.

But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests. Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself! And your way goes past yourself, and past your seven devils! You will be a heretic to yourself and witch and soothsayer and fool and doubter and unholy one and villain. You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame: how could you become new, if you had not first become ashes?

I was just struggling with my inner vachette and pondering the depths of my own inhumanity.

To sell your soul is the easiest thing in the world. That's what everybody does every hour of his life. If I asked you to keep your soul - would you understand why that's much harder?

This is not the person I wanted to become: Hatred has carved a permanent place inside me, a hollow where things are so easily lost.

I felt like I was a good woman, a good person. But I was sinking deeper and deeper into depression, because my soul wasn't living. I was purposely holding down my soul and my spirit. It was dying inside of me.

This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.

Solitude becomes a sort of tangible enemy, the more dangerous, because it dwells within the citadel itself.

Doing battle with themselves that way, every day, all the time and sometimes it sucks, but other times it results in people making sort of a dream comprehensible to someone else.

For years, copying other people, I tried to know myself. From within, I couldn't decide what to do. Unable to see, I heard my name being called. Then I walked outside.

Sometimes I feel as though there are two me's, one coasting directly on top of the other: the superficial me, who nods when she's supposed to nod and says what she's supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams... Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I'm two whole different people and I could rip apart at any second.

Sometimes you can get so far in yourself that you don't know who you are.