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IDENTITY 



"Identity is fluid because it changes according to the social context of the individual. Just as identity defines relationships, the nature of the set of social interactions in a person's life is what makes up that person's identity. Personal identity is composed essentially of social routines and protocols rather than personal characteristics. The question "who am I?" is answered ultimately not by looking within, but by taking into account the facts of relationships and actions."
~Michael Webb

"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself."
~Abraham Maslow

"It's not who I am underneath, but what I *do* that defines me."
~The Batman




THE ATTRACTION OF INSOMNIA 



"It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. Perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! A 'bad night' is not always a bad thing."
~Brian W. Aldiss

WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN'D ASTRONOMER by Walt Whitman 



WHEN I heard the learn’d astronomer; 
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; 
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; 
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, 
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;        
Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself, 
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, 
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.