Quotes About Self-worth

Face it. There's not going to be a happy ending... at least not with this hero. So don't go mooning around thinking that your breakup is only the crisis before the big romantic scene, because I'm here to tell you that it's not. When you are dumped, you are dumped, and the guy isn't going to change his mind and realize that suddenly he loves you instead of that girl he's flirting with in lunchroom, now that he's free.

Now that I am grown, I think don't take no for an answer is a lesson we teach boys who would be better off learning that no means no.

I am the center of the story now, Jule said to herself. I don't have to weigh very little, wear very little, or have my teeth fixed. I am the center.

It didn't matter that in her heart Frankie knew she was smart and charming. What mattered was that feeling of being expendable. That to Porter, she was a nobody that could easily be replaced by a better model - and the better model wasn't even so great. Which meant Frankie herself was nearly worthless.

So I was a monster, she thought. At least I wasn't someone's little sister, someone's girlfriend, some sophomore, some girl—someone whose opinions don't matter.

It is better to be alone, she figures, than to be with someone who can't see who you are.

Jule had many rare talents. She worked hard and really had so damn much to offer. She knew all that. So why did she feel worthless at the same time?

And now, she was walking down the hall with her books clutched to her chest, looking down at the floor while guys called, "Don't hide that light under a bushel!

And in the end, after he broke up with me and I was sad and mental, I came to the Vineyard and one day I thought: Eff you, Mr. Isaac. I'm not so very ignorant. I just know stuff about stuff that you dismiss as unimportant and useless. Does that make sense?

I'd rather be ignored as a frog than eaten as a human.

Fat Angie may not have had a body worth promoting according to any number of fashion magazines on the market, but it was a healthier, stronger, and, quite honestly, ready-to-kick-ass-and-take-names body. With

We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.

That every Nuer considers himself as good as his neighbor is evident in their every movement. They strut about like lords of the earth, which, indeed, they consider themselves to be. There is no master and no servant in their society, but only equals who regard themselves as Gods noblest creation...even the suspicion of an order riles a man and he either does not carry it out or he carries it out in a casual and dilatory manner that is more insulting than a refusal.

Honor is how others see you. Pride is how you see yourself.

I'm so disgusting,' I try to argue, but his hands and his voice and his marble mother's eyes won't let it be true anymore. 'No,' he says. 'You're beautiful.

One of the surprising things in this world is the respect a worthless man has for himself.

we come to a rather strange fact. We tend to minimize the things we can do, the goals we can achieve, and yet, for an equally strange reason, we think others can do things that we cannot. I want you to know that that is not true. You do have deep reservoirs of talent and ability within you and you can have the things you want.

A man has always wanted to lay me down but he never wanted to pick me up.

Feeling nothing was now a badge of honour.

When we cannot bear to be alone, it means we do not properly value the only companion we will have from birth to death - ourselves.

This is not a game of Who The Fuck Are You.

In every generation, ever since Negroes have been here, every Negro mother and father has had to face that child and try to create in that child some way of surviving this particular world, some way to make the child who will be despised not despise himself. I don't know what "the Negro Problem" means to white people, but this is what it means to Negroes.

Art critic! Is that a profession? When I think we are stupid enough, we painters, to solicit those people's compliments and to put ourselves into their hands! What shame! Should we even accept that they talk about our work?

I have to live with myself and so, I want to be fit for myself to know.