“I don't know who my grandfather was; I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be.”

“I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who I am.”

“Nobody knows you.You don't know yourself.And I, who am half in love with you,What am I in love with?My own imaginings?”

“Even if I don't like what I am, I know what I am. My children like what they are, but they don't know what they are. So tell me which is worse.”

“I could have kisses like that for the rest of my life. Kisses that don't know who I am. Kisses that make me feel more and less than what I am. But my finger tap tap taps on my leg and reminds me that I am not who Adam thinks I am, and it makes me want to cry. It's not that I don't deserve his kiss. It's that the person I am can never really share a life, a soul, with the person he is.”

“I don't know who I am. Or maybe I do know who I am and I just don't want to be her anymore.”