When you don't inherit an identity you have to define it on your own.

We don’t have to allow ourselves to be defined by the labels imposed on us. We get to define ourselves.

Own your identity. Love who you are in the world. Love your deafness.

It would be curious to discover who it is to whom one writes in a diary. Possibly to some mysterious personification of one's own identity.

Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth.

Elza needed challenges in her life, needed to be occupied. Without walls to climb or windmills to attack she was the type of person who became depressed. She knew this. The feeling lived inside her somewhere - probably nestled close to her solar plexus. Yes, it seemed like that was the case. She felt it right in her chest. So, to escape dwelling on her anxieties - which she was prone to do - Elza lived in a state of perpetual movement. If she slowed down or was obstructed, even for a moment, she would suffer being left alone with herself, and then all would be lost.