“How shall I ever learn who I am when there is so much of me that belongs to someone else?”

“So many thingsI know about myselfI've learned from others. Without someone else to listen, to judge, to tell me what to do, and choose who I am, do I get to decide for myself?”

“I set and wonder if you'll ever understand how much of me belongs to you.”

“I am not much engaged by the problems of what you might call our day but I am burdened by the particular, the mad person who writes me a letter. It is no longer necessary for them even to write me. I know when someone is thinking of me. I learn to deal with this.”

“I never once said, This is not who I am. Because, maybe, I didn't know who I was, so I just let someone else tell me.”

“He gave me something that day... something I wanted to protect. And when it was taken from me I learned how small I was. I vowed to never again care for someone so much, I couldn't bear to lose them.”