Ellen Hopkins Quotes

How would I know which one I was?

If you ask me to play myself, I will not know what to do. I do not know who or what I am.

I am not sultry. I don't know what I am.

I'm not even sure who I really am sometimes.

The Self has turned out to mean so many things, to mean them so ambiguously, and to be so wavering in its application, that we do not feel encouraged.

I may not be better than other people, but at least I'm different.

Ultimately, I'm not so sure that, as a person, I'm all that interesting.

I know it sounds pathetic, but I don't know who I am.

I know that I am what I am. But I am not sure what I am.

I, uh, don't think I'm, y'know, so different than your average, y'know, average.

I don't know what I am. And it's not important.

'Different' is such a good word. For me, ever since I was little, I always felt that something was off. And I just didn't have the resources to - I just didn't know what it was.

I am sure of nothing so little as my own intentions.

There are times I can't even figure myself out.

I'm just like you, only I'm different because I'm me.

I don't even know what my voice is to this day.

When I look at myself, I see a person who strangely lacks what I consider the ingredients of a personality.

I always felt different in a lot of ways and didn't really know how to express that.

I remember being a kid and always feeling a little different than all my friends.

I always have a hard time describing myself.

I'm also not sure that I look up to others as knowing what the hell is going on, except maybe Andre Agassi, who, when I interviewed him, while covering the U.S. Open, seemed to know what was going on. My basic assumption is that we're all confused all the time. Some people do act more confident, though. Maybe they aren't confused. I am. I'm confused.

Who Am I? Or (Perhaps More Accurately) Who Else Could Be Me?

I know I'm different, but I don't think about it.

I consider my selfbeing ... that taste of myself, of I and me above and in all things, which is more distinctive than the taste of ale or alum, more distinctive than the smell of walnutleaf or camphor, and is incommunicable by any means to another man.

I feel like I don't see myself as all that different from other humans as a woman, but I'm surprised by how frequently I'm asked to see myself differently. So that's one kind of terror to have to face. Am I a unicorn? What's sticking out of my head that I'm not seeing? I'm simply female, and that puts me alongside all of my human counterparts.