Best 49 quotes in «who am i quotes» category

All which is regarded as ‘my’, belongs to the non-Self. ‘I’ is the Self and ‘my’ is of the non-Self; it is pudgal, the body-complex. There is nothing wrong with saying ‘this is mine’ in the worldly interactions, but the ‘I’, ‘who am I?’, must be decided from within.

All religions are correct but the religion that searches for ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Who is the doer?’ is on the last final path of religion. And which knows this ‘Who’ is the final religion.

Do not let go of your right to make your own decisions, because by doing so you are letting go of who you really are.

Am I a prisoner of my thoughts? Am I a prisoner of my societal conformity? Who am I? How conscious am I? Am I conscious or obnoxious?

As long as this belief, ‘I am the doer’ is not gone, one has not yet attained an iota of exact religion. He is still in the auspicious-inauspicious [shubh-ashubh] state.

Being gay is not just what I do, but who I am. It is part of how I choose to live my life even if I never chose.

From time to time, we all must go unto a landscape—be it inner or outer landscape—where there are no hiding places. Allowing the stark awe and silence to aid us in both communing and confronting the depth of ourselves. We fear emptiness because we know that within those places of nothingness we will come face-to-face with who we are and gaze into the internal mirror. But what is the alternative? Shall we go our entire life without hearing our own voice . . . without ever having met who we are when isolated from all?

I am Chandubhai’ is an illusion itself and from that are karmas charged. When does ‘charging’ of new karmas stop? When one attains the exact awareness of ‘who I am?’.

Getting rid of the wrong understanding and attaining the right understanding is indeed bliss.

As long as one is involved in worldly interactions, there is pleasure of the mind; and after knowing the Self (Soul), there is bliss of the Soul.

I am a complicated person with a simple life.

I am not for or against anyone or anything; I am just kind.

I am not me. I am not my body. I am my love, my kindness, and my service.

I am not pretty; I am not ugly. I am not true, and I am not false. I am just me—a reality, a conception, and not a misinterpretation.

I am not Seamus, who tacks emotions to the outside of his skin and whose words charge from his mouth on horseback. No one sees through me, except Xavier, and he does so not because I choose to give him access but because he knows himself. I will have to offer myself to Seamus, if I want something 'more' with him. Part of me can't believe I'd contemplate it, even for a moment. What do I have in common with an oversized, yarn-spinning, bread-mauling, divorced deliveryman attached to a seven-year-old? The rest of me doesn't know if I remember how to be close to another person. I practice mimicry, a Viceroy butterfly masquerading as a Monarch, a Superb Lyrebird echoing the calls of everything from chickadees to chain saws. I practice stories of my past, telling this sad memory or that scary one, and people feel I'm confiding in them because the words touch their deepest wounds, not because the tales hold any emotional resonance for me. My intimacies, the ones that have become my Sisyphus stones, long-term romantic relationships, the college one, ended with the nice young man shocked when I said I didn't love him and we had nothing in common. "We've spent two years talking about everything," he said. Yes, mimicry.

I am not what you are. I am only what I can see. I am me.

If you can accept the indescribable nature of your true identity, you unveil the mystery of life.

Identity is the role you chose to play in the story of the Universe.

If you want to know the answer to ‘Who am I?’, then you will have to go to a Gnani purush [the enlightened one]. The Gnani Purush will give you Knowledge of your real Self [Who Am I] in the presence of the egoism. Thereafter your accounts (karmic) will be settled [& things will start falling in place].

I spent days and nights staring at the blank page, searching the deepest corners of my mind: who have I been, what have I seen, what did I learn? I thought about all the nights I've spent outside, all the times I laid down to cry and how I took a deep breath every morning and decided to simply go on. Because what else is there to do? Decide that this is it? I quit, I'm done? Oh if I could find words to justify those feelings I've carried. I could write the thickest of books with explosions of emotions from a young girl's lost heart. I could make you see, make you hear, make you feel, at least a tiny fragment of what's out there.

In life we do not attract what we want, we attract who we are.

Inquire within, rather than without, asking: "What part of my Self do I wish to experience now? What aspects of being do I choose to call forth?" For all of life exists as a tool of your own creation, and all of its events merely present themselves as opportunities for you to decide, and be, Who You Are.

It's a beautiful night to think about who I am in her eyes.

Keep one goal only and that is ‘to know thy Self [Soul]’. Do not be insistent about ‘I want to do this and do that’. Whatever happens, at whatever time, is correct.

One cannot transcend the body or mind just by repeating the mantra "I am not the body and I am not the mind".

Refuse the old means of measurement. Rely instead on the thrumming wilderness of self. Listen. -From "Out West

She started to head out, but she passed her room. It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home. The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror. Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder. She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. After all, her surname, Fa, meant flower. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name. But no one was here, and she didn't want to face her reflection. Who knew what it would show, especially in Diyu? She isn't a boy, her mother had told her father once. She shouldn't be riding horses and letting her hair loose. The neighbors will talk. She won't find a good husband- Let her, Fa Zhou had consoled his wife. When she leaves this household as a bride, she'll no longer be able to do these things. Mulan hadn't understood what he meant then. She hadn't understood the significance of what it meant for her to be the only girl in the village who skipped learning ribbon dances to ride Khan through the village rice fields, who chased after chickens and helped herd the cows instead of learning the zither or practicing her painting, who was allowed to have opinions- at all. She'd taken the freedom of her childhood for granted. When she turned fourteen, everything changed. I know this will be a hard change to make, Fa Li had told her, but it's for your own good. Men want a girl who is quiet and demure, polite and poised- not someone who speaks out of turn and runs wild about the garden. A girl who can't make a good match won't bring honor to the family. And worse yet, she'll have nothing: not respect, or money of her own, or a home. She'd touched Mulan's cheek with a resigned sigh. I don't want that fate for you, Mulan. Every morning for a year, her mother tied a rod of bamboo to Mulan's spine to remind her to stand straight, stuffed her mouth with persimmon seeds to remind her to speak softly, and helped Mulan practice wearing heeled shoes by tying ribbons to her feet and guiding her along the garden. Oh, how she'd wanted to please her mother, and especially her father. She hadn't wanted to let them down. But maybe she hadn't tried enough. For despite Fa Li's careful preparation, she had failed the Matchmaker's exam. The look of hopefulness on her father's face that day- the thought that she'd disappointed him still haunted her. Then fate had taken its turn, and Mulan had thrown everything away to become a soldier. To learn how to punch and kick and hold a sword and shield, to shoot arrows and run and yell. To save her country, and bring honor home to her family. How much she had wanted them to be proud of her.

She wrote books—and she was happy.

It is not possible to know ‘Who am I?’ by ‘doing’. ‘Doing’ (anything), requires egoism, and where there is egoism, ‘Who am I’ cannot be known.

It's okay to not know who you are and what you want. Those with the answers are usually very happy in their own stuck-ness

Knowledge that brings closure [settlement] to the mind in every way is Absolute Knowledge and it indeed is the all encompassing Knowledge that always gives complete closure [settlement, solutions].

Moksha (ultimate liberation) cannot be attained until purity arises. To attain purity one has to realize ‘Who am I?

Som så ofta när jag var i den åldern undrade jag vem jag var, och vad det egentligen var som tittade på ansiktet i spegeln. Om ansiktet jag tittade på inte var jag, och det visste jag att det inte var eftersom jag förblev mig själv vad som än hände med mitt ansikte, vad var det i så fall som var jag? Och vad var det som tittade?

That is who I am supposed to be, how I am identified and recorded for all time, but I am neither of those things

...that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn’t know who I was—I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I’d never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn’t know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds. I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened right there and then, that strange red afternoon.

Where the Self [Soul] is forgotten; that place is not ours.

Who am I and why am I here? Has just become my greatest fear.

Who am I? What is my mission?

Who are we without our addictions; without our media-induced hungers? So often the voices we hear echoing in our mind are not our own but that of our influencers. Isolation, while arguably going against human nature, is essential for mental and emotional health. Solitude is a detoxification of all that distorts our personality and misguides our path in life. It allows us to filter out the foreign opinions and hear our own voice—reach our authentic character—and practice fidelity to self.

Who do you love more, your thoughts or God?

Who is doing this? Who am I? What is all this? Who is the doer? Who is the nimit (instrumental doer) of this? If all these remain present ‘at a time’ exactly the way it is, then that is considered shuddha upayog (pure focused applied awareness of the Self, the Soul).

Why is there so much problem just to know one’s own Soul? The Soul resides in one’s own abode (body), but one doesn’t know it and then he says, ‘I know this and I know that so’. Instead why don’t you get to know your own ‘Self’?

That one who promised to care my life and to be with in all the way. same one killed me brutally and brutally murder my heart and feelings and My Trust. Whom i must blame ? God or That person or To my Stupidity of blind trust ? Some Que Never stop tease

This is one place an opinion has to be made: that this body is a betrayal.

When you ask the question, “Who am I?”—if you have enough time and concentration—you may find some surprising answers. You may see that you are a continuation of your ancestors. Your parents and your ancestors are fully present in every cell of your body; you are their continuation. You don’t have a separate self. If you remove your ancestors and your parents from you, there’s no “you” left. You may see that you’re made of elements, like water for example. If you remove the water from you, there’s no “you” left. You’re made of earth. If you remove the element earth from you, there’s no “you” left. You’re made of air. You need air desperately; without air you cannot survive. So if you remove the element of air from you, there’s no “you” left. And there’s the fire element, the element of heat, the element of light, in you. You know that you are made of light. Without sunlight, nothing can grow on Earth. If you continue to look, you see that you are made of the sun, one of the biggest stars in the galaxy. And you know that the Earth, as well as yourself, is made of the stars. So you are the stars. On a clear night, look up, and you can see that you are the stars above. You’re not just the tiny body you normally may think of as “yourself.

While walking, for example, if we are talking or thinking at the same time, we get caught up in the conversation or thoughts we’re having and get lost in the past or the future, our worries or our projects. People can easily spend their entire lives doing just that. What a tragic waste! Let us instead really live these moments that are given to us. In order to be able to live our life, we have to stop that radio inside, turn off our internal discourse. How can we enjoy our steps if our attention is given over to all that mental chatter? It’s important to become aware of what we feel, not just what we think. When we touch the ground with our foot, we should be able to feel our foot making contact with the ground. When we do this, we can feel a lot of joy in just being able to walk. When we walk, we can invest all our body and mind into our steps and be fully concentrated in each precious moment of life. In focusing on that contact with the earth, we stop being dragged around by our thoughts and begin to experience our body and our environment in a wholly different way. Our body is a wonder! Its functioning is the result of millions of processes. We can fully appreciate this only if we stop our constant thinking and have enough mindfulness and concentration to be in touch with the wonders of our body, the Earth, and the sky.

Who am I? Am I Caleb? Am I James? I've often asked myself this very thing and have always come up with a different answer. Perhaps the only truthful answer is, "I am both." Caleb will always be a part of me--probably the largest part. I want to be James. James is a 29-year-old from Oregon. He was raised by his mother and always wondered about his father. He grew up with respect for women but also a need to display his masculinity to make up for his lack of a father. He went to college but took time off before grad school to go and see the world. He met Sophia at The Paseo de Colon and fell instantly in love. James never met anyone named Livvie. He never hurt her. We know different. We know the truth. So, for the purposes of this story you begged me to tell--I am Caleb. I am the man who kidnapped Livvie. I am the man who held her in a dark room for weeks. I'm the one who tied her to a bedpost and beat her. I'm the one who nearly sold her into sexual slavery. But, most importantly, I am the man she loves. She loves me. It's quite sick, isn't it?

WHO AM I? I have seven heavenly panels Leading up to a pointed sphere I’m multidimensional like a crystal And my center is never clear. I’m an inventor and pioneer. A mentor to my peers. But I'm not as sound as my shell reveals, Because I’m tormented by my fears - That may appear to be grounded But my insides are filled with tears. And the sadness is well-founded, From years and years Of traumatic experiences Compounded In the most demented Atmospheres. I talk but feel like nobody hears. Has reason disappeared? And, God, are you near? This is Giza’s 7th light force And I'm asking you to interfere. I can no longer walk amongst the blind and dead With open eyes and ears. I’m trying to maintain my sanity And to straighten up my veneer As I roll amongst the growing calamities Flowing on Earth’s severely trashed Frontier. Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (2010)

Who am I?’- Not knowing this is the greatest death to the Soul (one’s own self)!