“Will I be subtly influenced by what my clone says, or by my own subconscious? Will my thoughts really be mine, or will they be mine—the other me?”

“What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own.”

“None of this I'd mine. My father is not mine- not in that way. His death and what he's done are not mine. Nor are my upbringing not my town nor its tragedies. How can these things be mine? Holding me responsible for keeping hidden this information is ridiculous. I was born into a town and a family and the town and my family happened to me. I own none of it. It's everyone's.”

“I would not like it thought that I do not buy my own paperclips, sir. I enjoy owning my own paperclips. It means they are mine.”

“What makes my life my own is ultimately the sheer fact that it is mine to live, mine to make something of, in the face of my possible non-existence. Every other possibility is something that I may be free not to do, and that someone else may be able to do just as well as I can. But my death is a possibility that necessarily faces me alone: no one can face it for me.”

“Rome is not outside me, but inside me.. Her feverish sweetness, her tragic countryside, her own beauty and harmony, all these are mine, for my thought and my work.”