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"I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one."
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Exlpore more Self quotes
"You are not what you think, but you are the reflection of what you think."
"When you are looking at a person, you are not seeing him; you are seeing yourself through his reflective mirror."
"What you think about yourself is more important than what others think about you."
"In the ancient times, when ignorance was the default mode of thinking, Krishna may have proven to be a glorious figure to be adored and relied on in times of distress, but in the modern world of conscientious humans, no Krishna is higher than the Human Self."
"You are one of the most beautiful and unique flowers in the garden of humanity."
Explore more quotes by Sue Monk Kidd
"You don't have to place your hand on Mary's heart to get strength and consolation and rescue, and all the other things we need to get through life. You can place it right here on your own heart. Your own heart."
"In the photograph by my bed my other is perpetually smiling on me. I guess I have forgiven us both, although sometimes in the night my dreams will take me back to the sadness, and I have to wake up and forgive us again."
"You come from your mauma, you sleep in the bed with her till you're near twenty years grown, and you still don't know what haunches in the dark corners of her."
"There are things without explanation, moments when life will become arranged in such odd ways that you imagine a whole vocabulary of meaning inside them. The breakfast smell struck me like that."
"I can't explain exactly why it lives within me for so long and passionately. But race matters to me; racial equality matters to me, as does gender. There is something about these kinds of social injustices that go to the deep of me."
"I wonder if that's the perennial story of writers: you find the true light, you lose the true light, you find it again. And maybe again."
"Sarah shifted on the bench. I worried she was winding up to say something, that Sky would start humming now, that the fright spring-coiled inside me would break loose. Then I remembered the widow dress I was wearing. I made a sound with my lips like I was trying to give him an answer, but choking on the words, seized by my grief, and I didn't have to pretend that much. I felt sorrow for my life, for what I'd lived and seen and known, for what was lost to me, and the weeping turned real."
"We are so limited, you have to use the same word for loving Rosaleen as you do for loving Coke with peanuts. Isn't that a shame we don't have many more ways to say it?"
"Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here."
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