No one knows what I am and really, I wonder if I do, at the end of the day.
Another person's life, observed from the outside, always has a shape and definition that one's own life lacks.
Self-conscious, uncertain, I'm showered by the dust. But the spirit enters into me and I submit to trust.
When I look in the mirror, I know I’m looking at someone who isn’t sure she deserves to be loved at all.
Sometimes a neighbor whom we have disliked a lifetime for his arrogance and conceit lets fall a single commonplace remark that shows us another side, another man, really; a man uncertain, and puzzled, and in the dark like ourselves.
This very heart which is mine will forever remain indefinable to me. Between the certainty I have of my existence and the content I try to give to that assurance, the gap will never be filled. Forever I shall be a stranger to myself.
I put up a front to make people think I had all of this confidence in myself, which I didn't.
I've stopped taking myself seriously because now I understand how fickle my thoughts are.
Well, I don't know what image people have of me.
I always doubted myself. I doubted the way I looked, my body, my voice - everything.
I do interviews because it's a chance to be myself. I sometimes wonder what I could have to say that would be of any interest. I don't have any great wisdom.
How many people do you know who are obsessed with their work, who are type A or have stress related diseases and who can’t slow down? They can’t slow down because they use their routine to distract themselves, to reduce life to only its practical considerations. And they do this to avoid recalling how uncertain they are about why they live.
Sometimes I feel like I must be hinting at this deep well of knowledge when, really, I just skim off the surface.
We never really are the adults we pretend to be. We wear the mask and perhaps the clothes and posture of grown-ups, but inside ourskin we are never as wise or as sure or as strong as we want to convince ourselves and others we are. We may fool all the rest of the people all of the time, but we never fool our parents. They can see behind the mask of adulthood. To her mommy and daddy, the empress never has on any clothes--and knows it.
I don't really know what my personality is anyway. I don't really have one.
Often we don't even know what we think ourselves about people in our lives.
Zero, zero belief in myself. And it's changed somewhat, but there's still a lot of that in me.
