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Outcast Quotes

Browse 234 quotes about Outcast.

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Outcast Quotes

“Good evening, Sergeant,” Helen said. “What’s that?” He held the bag out to her. “A present for Lieutenant Angel. Something to eat on your journey.” She took it and put it back on the desk. “Wipe that damn grin off your face, Sergeant. A smiling Toltec is a contradiction in terms.”

CourageTensionFantasy FictionOutcastSpiritual JourneyAncient CivilizationsPower StrugglesForbidden KnowledgePolitical ScandalHidden Lineage
Book:Stoneslayer: Book One Scandal
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“Of all individuals, the hated, the shunned, and the peculiar are arguably most themselves. They wear no masks whatsoever in order to be accepted and liked; they do seem most guarded, but only by their own hands: as compared to the populace, they are naked.”

RealPsychologySocietyLonelinessHonestyAcceptanceStrangeSolitudeUniqueNakedVulnerableHatedOddFakeIsolationMaskShyBe YourselfPeculiarIntrovertWeirdLonerOutcastOriginalHermitsAlienIndividualsNudeFrontPopulaceShunned
Book:Healology
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“I push my eye farther into the crack, smushing my cheek. The door rattles. Her arm freezes. The needle stops. Instantly, her shadow fills the room, a mountain on the wall. “Leidah?” I hold my breath. No hiding in the wood-box this time. Before I even have time to pull my eye away, the door opens. My mother's face, like the moon in the dark hallway. She squints and takes a step toward me. “Lei-lee?” I want to tell her I’ve had a nightmare about the Sisters, that I can’t sleep with all this whispering and worrying from her—and what are you sewing in the dark, Mamma? I try to move my lips, but I have no mouth. My tongue is gone; my nose is gone. I don’t have a face anymore. It has happened again. I am lying on my back, flatter than bread. My mother’s bare feet slap against my skin, across my belly, my chest. She digs her heel in, at my throat that isn’t there. I can see her head turning toward her bedroom. Snores crawl under the closed door. The door to my room is open, but she can’t see my bed from where she stands, can’t see that my bed is empty. She nods to herself: everything as it should be. Her foot grinds into my chin. The door to the sewing room closes behind her. I struggle to sit up. I wiggle my hips and jiggle my legs. It is no use. I am stuck, pressed flat into the grain of wood under me. But it’s not under me. It is me. I have become the floor. I know it’s true, even as I tell myself I am dreaming, that I am still in bed under the covers. My blood whirls inside the wood knots, spinning and rushing, sucking me down and down. The nicks of boot prints stomp and kick at my bones, like a bruise. I feel the clunk of one board to the next, like bumps of a wheel over stone. And then I am all of it, every knot, grain, and sliver, running down the hall, whooshing like a river, ever so fast, over the edge and down a waterfall, rushing from room to room. I pour myself under and over and through, feeling objects brush against me as I pass by. Bookshelves, bedposts, Pappa’s slippers, a fallen dressing gown, the stubby ends of an old chair. A mouse hiding inside a hole in the wall. Mor’s needle bobbing up and down. How is this possible? I am so wide, I can see both Mor and Far at the same time, even though they are in different rooms, one wide awake, the other fast asleep. I feel my father’s breath easily, sinking through the bed into me, while Mor’s breath fights against me, against the floor. In and out, each breath swimming away, away, at the speed of her needle, up up up in out in out outoutout—let me out, get me out, I want out. That’s what Mamma is thinking, and I hear it, loud and clear. I strain my ears against the wood to get back into my own body. Nothing happens. I try again, but this time push hard with my arms that aren’t there. Nothing at all. I stop and sink, letting go, giving myself into the floor. Seven, soon to be eight… it’s time, time’s up, time to go. The needle is singing, as sure as stitches on a seam. I am inside the thread, inside her head. Mamma is ticking—onetwothreefourfivesix— Seven. Seven what? And why is it time to go? Don’t leave me, Mamma. I beg her feet, her knees, her hips, her chest, her heart, my begging spreading like a big squid into the very skin of her. It’s then that I feel it. Something is happening to Mamma. Something neither Pappa nor I have noticed. She is becoming dust. She is drier than the wood I have become. - Becoming Leidah Quoted by copying text from the epub version using BlueFire e-reader.”

PoetryImaginationMagicMagical RealismOutcastNorseWiccaSelkieAncestralShapeshift
Book:Becoming Leidah
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“Shame be damned—own the ruin of yourself. Wear the failure like a vintage coat —torn, tattered heart— you are a worn out classic, a soul of arcane salt and grit. Outcast, iconoclast, standfast. Beyond the black and white blah of buttondown norm we clash and crash in the candle-lit dusk of conscious dreams and darkest desires”

SoulShameIndividualityClassicRebelliousOutcastDamnationIconoclast
Book:Drive Through the Night
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“Eventually, he brought me a translation of the Islamic Holy Book, the Quran, and one night, as I read, I came across a sura that touched me so deeply, moved me so profoundly, it was as though God had whispered in my ear. My life didn't change, the circumstances that plagued me -- poverty, exile from the real world, continuous fears about what lay ahead -- didn't change. I wasn't instantly, miraculously cured of the blackness that was rooted in my soul, but I was comforted. I, who felt and believed that I was beyond even the capability of God to love and forgive, who feared daily retribution of the meanest, vilest kind, cried to the first time since I'd come to this house, not bitterly, not grudging the tears. 'By the morning hours, And by the night when it is stillest The Lord hath not forsaken thee nor doth He hate thee And verily the latter portion will be better for thee than the former And verily thy Lord will give unto thee so that thou will be content Did He not find thee an Orphan and protect thee? Did He not find thee wandering and direct thee? Did He not find thee destitute and enrich thee? Therefore the orphan oppress not, Therefore the beggar drive not away, Therefore the bounty of thy Lord be thy discourse. (Sura 93)' That verse freed me. I was not an outcast, not hated by a God who could love and forgive everyone but me. In time, I could see my being in this house as an act of man, not an act of God. I also began to believe that there might be another reason for my being directed here; I was not here to die, but perhaps to do something about the place and the people. I began to feel I'd been given back purpose.”

PurposePovertyRecoveryMeaningOutcast
Book:Upstairs In The Crazy House: The Life Of A Psychiatric Survivor
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“We aren't human." "Yes. We. Are." His voice turns fierce. "I don't give a shit what the something-somethingth council of big important farts decreed, or how the geomests classify things, or any of that. That we're not human is just the lie they tell themselves so they don't have to feel bad about how they treat us.”

HumanityOppressionLabelsAlienationOutcastClassificationLabelingCasteCaste SystemTaxonomyOutcasts
Book:The Fifth Season
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“There were so many things I wanted to tell you. Or rather, I wished to have things that I wanted to tell you. What a thing, to be with you and have no words for it. What a thing, to be outcast like that. And then everything unfastened. It was like something was always dissolving inside you— Already it's hard to remember how you used to comb your hair or how you tilted your broad face in green shade. Now what seas, what meanings can I place in you?”

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Book:Incarnadine: Poems
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“Some people only needed you for transactions. Don’t let sweet personalities fool you into thinking they’ll hold your hand if it’s got blood on it. If one day, you lost a leg, your boss wouldn’t close the store branch for you. If you lost a home, your old classmates wouldn’t lend you theirs. If you decided to give up, your circle will say you made the right decision. No one’s going to save you, but they love meeting you. And so suddenly, when you lose, the whole world turns on you. A freak— as if alienation was only one amputation, one home, one failure away.”

SocietyLonelinessSolitudeIsolationAlienationHelplessnessOutcastThe Goodbye SongOutsiderAmputation
Book:The Goodbye Song
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“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.' These men without possessions or power, these strangers on Earth, these sinners, these followers of Jesus, have in their life with him renounced their own dignity, for they are merciful. As if their own needs and their own distress were not enough, they take upon themselves the distress and humiliation of others. They have an irresistible love for the down-trodden, the sick, the wretched, the wronged, the outcast and all who are tortured with anxiety. They go out and seek all who are enmeshed in the toils of sin and guilt. No distress is too great, no sin too appalling for their pity. If any man falls into disgrace, the merciful will sacrifice their own honour to shield him, and take his shame upon themselves.”

GodJesusSinGraceDignityMercyGuiltMercifulOutcast
Book:The Cost of Discipleship
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“In the distance, people were living lives, having fun, learning, making money, fighting and walking around and falling in and out of love. People were being born, growing up, dropping dead. Trevor was probably spending his Christmas vacation with some woman in Hawaii or Bali or Tulum. He was probably fingering her at that very moment, telling her he loved her. He might actually be happy. I shut the window and lowered all the blinds.”

SadAloneIsolatedOutcastLeft OutOttessa MoshfeghMy Year Of Rest And RelaxationReclusiveAlienated
Book:My Year of Rest and Relaxation
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“The point being, everyone knows a celebratory redemption story, one where the person in question overcomes adversity and becomes the main character in an undeniably remarkable turnaround story. But there's nothing but ridicule for the ones who never turn things around. Like the socialite whose ex-husband was arrested on a money laundering charge and is now an outcast among her former upscale circle. Or the father who abandoned everything for his mistress and now lives an isolated existence in a run-down apartment with no mistress, ex-wife, or kids. Or the bank executive who embezzled money and lost it all only to wind up living under a forty-second street bridge with his close friend Jack Daniels. Or the beauty queen who fell victim to a botched facelift and now curses her existence behind two-inch thick, closed miniblinds. No one celebrates the fallen and discarded because no one wants to admit it could happen to them. But we're all just one misstep away from living an upside-down life while the rest of the world points out all the ways we deserve it.”

FatherAdversityRedemptionMistressOutcastTurnaroundBeauty QueenExecutiveSocialite
Book:They Call Her Dirty Sally
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“Traumatic events destroy the sustaining bonds between individual and community. Those who have survived learn that their sense of self, of worth, of humanity, depends upon a feeling of connection with others. The solidarity of a group provides the strongest protection against terror and despair, and the strongest antidote to traumatic experience. Trauma isolates; the group re-creates a sense of belonging. Trauma shames and stigmatizes; the group bears witness and affirms. Trauma degrades the victim; the group exalts her. Trauma dehumanizes the victim; the group restores her humanity. Repeatedly in the testimony of survivors there comes a moment when a sense of connection is restored by another person’s unaffected display of generosity. Something in herself that the victim believes to be irretrievably destroyed---faith, decency, courage---is reawakened by an example of common altruism. Mirrored in the actions of others, the survivor recognizes and reclaims a lost part of herself. At that moment, the survivor begins to rejoin the human commonality...”

FaithHumanityCommunityHealingCourageSocietyAbuseVictimAffectionRecoveryGenerosityConnectionBelongingSurvivorIsolatedRejectedAltruismPtsdDecencyAbuse SurvivorsOutcastInhumanSurvivorsBondingInhumanityBondHealing InsightsTraumatic ExperiencesBondsTraumatizedDehumanizationInhumaneRecovery From AbuseHealing AbuseConnection With PeopleDehumanisationLoss Of SelfVictimizedNo Longer HumanDehumanizeDehumanizedInhumane TreatmentFeeling HumanLoss Of Social InteractionReclaiming DignityReclaiming Your Life
Book:Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence - From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror
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“If a person wishes to engender self-improvement, they must eschew conventional norms and seek an authentic conversation with the self. I need to acknowledge all my ugly warts and attempt to use the conscious mind to trace my lowly state of existence devoted to pleasure seeking and self-glorification. I can give into the dismal implications of all the years I labored in foolish vocational and recreational pursuits or labor to transform former suffering into a creative force. I seek to convert the toxic tears of bitterness into a healing serum by cultivating an artistic approach to life. Cheerfully living in exile and embracing solitude creates personal space needed to flourish.”

SolitudeSelf ImprovementIsolationExileOutcastSelf Improvement QuotesSelf EvaluationArtistic IntegritySelf Critic
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“The most thoroughly and relentlessly damned, banned, excluded, condemned, forbidden, ostracized, ignored, suppressed, repressed, robbed, brutalized and defamed of all 'Damned Things' is the individual human being. The social engineers, statisticians, psychologists, sociologists, market researchers, landlords, bureaucrats, captains of industry, bankers, governors, commissars, kings and presidents are perpetually forcing this 'Damned Thing' into carefully prepared blueprints and perpetually irritated that the 'Damned Thing' will not fit into the slot assigned it. The theologians call it a sinner and try to reform it. The governor calls it a criminal and tries to punish it. The psychologist calls it a neurotic and tries to cure it. Still, the 'Damned Thing' will not fit into their slots.”

DifferentIndividualLabelsMisunderstoodOutcastExcludedDamnedFearedDislikedDemonizedOstracised
Author:Robert Anton Wilson
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“History, materialism, monism, positivism, and all the "isms" of this world are old and rusty tools which I don't need or mind anymore. My principle is life, my end is death. I wish to live my life intensely for to embrace my life tragically. You are waiting for the revolution? My own began a long time ago! When you will be ready (God, what an endless wait!) I won't mind going along with you for awhile. But when you stop, I shall continue on my insane and triumphal way toward the great and sublime conquest of the nothing! Any society that you build will have its limits. And outside the limits of any society the unruly and heroic tramps will wander, with their wild & virgin thoughts - they who cannot live without planning ever new and dreadful outbursts of rebellion! I shall be among them! And after me, as before me, there will be those saying to their fellows: "So turn to yourselves rather than to your Gods or to your idols. Find what hides in yourselves; bring it to light; show yourselves!”

AnarchismAnarchistOutcastHakim BeyPeter Lamborn WilsonTazTemporary Autonomous ZonesRebellionionRenzo Novatore
Book:Toward the Creative Nothing and Other Writings
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“I was a young, & had deep loves, & my heart would overflow with enthusiasm! And I mingled with the crowd, I mixed with my fellow men, speaking my thought out loud! And they gaped back at me, without understanding. And I withdrew from them, & they said to me: Arrogant one! And from time to time in my solitude, my loves, my repressed enthusiasms broke out into odes, conversation; & my companions laughed and used to point at me as a madman. So I suffered, doubted, cursed, & no one believed me sincere. It’s as if this heart, once so full of strength & love were annihilated.”

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Author:Comte de Lautréamont
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“A savage sense entered me, of being of such small account in the world that I wasn't to be helped, that priest and woman and man had put out an edict that I wasn't to be helped, I was to be left to the elements, just as I was, a walking animal, forsaken. Maybe it was then that some part of me leapt away from myself, something fled from my brain, I don't know.”

IsolatedDissociationOutcastForsakenSebastian BarryThe Secret ScripturePariah
Book:The Secret Scripture
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