'Identity?' said Jack, comfortably pouring out more coffee. 'Is not identity something you are born with?'
'The identity I am thinking of is something that hovers between a man and the rest of the world: a mid-point between his view of himself and theirs of him - for each, of course, affects the other continually. A reciprocal fluxion, sir. There is nothing absolute about this identity of mine.'
This seems rather sympathetic to my own experience.