I have been a stranger here in my own land: All my life

Good bye, proud world! I'm going home; Thou art not my friend; I am not thine.

Maybe it’s all right,” she said. “But for the first time in my life I’m beginning to feel like an outsider in my own land.

One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland — and no other.

I refuse to be a part of this reality that was manufactured by other people; I manufactured my own reality

My body belongs to me, and is not the source of anyone’s honor.

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.

I'm getting out to mind my own fucking business, from somewhere else, and so I'm leaving this shitty country, of which I'm sickened.

I have, as it were, my own sun and moon and stars, and a little world all to myself.

As you know I am not of Barsoom; your ways are not my ways, and I can only act in the future as I have in the past, in accordance with the dictates of my conscience and guided by the standards of mine own people.

If there is any place I don't belong, it's in a mind where the story of me starts with the branch of me being queer and not with my rural roots.

Lord, not you, it is I who am absent.

I am my world.

I've drawn myself apart from them all; I am my own skipper and later on I shall see where I come to land