How we cite our quotes:
The person I am now, this fumbling, stumbling supplicant... was I built on the foundations of my old life, or did I rise from the grave a blank slate? How much of me is inherited, and how much is my own creation? (1.7.70)
Although this is R talking here, we could apply this philosophical conundrum to the lives of the Living. How much of our identity is predetermined by our parents, our genes, and the world we're born into? And how much do we make for ourselves?
Here we are. Trapped in the gap between the cradle and the grave, no longer able to fit in either. (2.8.36)
Is all of humanity having a mid-life crisis? Where have we been and where do we go from here?
Who is she, this girl? What is she? She is everything. Her body contains the history of life, remembered in chemicals. Her mind contains the history of the universe. (2.8.175)
Julie's not exactly special. The same could be said for almost any living person. We're all made of the same stuff, when it comes down to it. All that weight on our shoulders. No wonder so many of us have an identity crisis at some point.