Quotes About Self-worth

It had occurred to Pecola some time ago that if her eyes, those eyes that held the pictures, and knew the sights—if those eyes of hers were different, that is to say, beautiful, she herself would be different.

I think women dwell quite a bit on the duress under which they work, on how hard it is just to do it at all. We are traditionally rather proud of ourselves for having slipped creative work in there between the domestic chores and obligations. I'm not sure we deserve such big A-pluses for all that.

We are traditionally rather proud of ourselves for having slipped creative work in there between the domestic chores and obligations. I'm not sure we deserve such big A-pluses for all that.

But suppose my eyes aren't blue enough? Blue enough for what? Blue enough for…I don't know. Blue enough for something. Blue enough…for you!

You think because he doesn't love you that you are worthless. You think because he doesn't want you anymore that he is right-- that his judgment and opinion of you are correct. If he throws you out, then you are garbage. You think he belongs to you because you want to belong to him. Hagar, don't. It's a bad word, 'belong'. Especially when you put it with somebody you love.

You your own best thing. -Paul D.

Adults, older girls, shops, magazines, newspapers, window signs—all the world had agreed that a blue-eyed, yellow-haired, pink-skinned doll was what every girl child treasured. "Here," they said, "this is beautiful, and if you are on this day 'worthy' you may have it.

The sad thing was that Pauline did not really care for clothes and makeup. She merely wanted other women to cast favorable glances her way.

Instead of ignoring her infirmity, pretending it was not there, he made it seem like something special and endearing. For the first time Pauline felt that her bad foot was an asset

The Thing to fear was the Thing that made her beautiful, and not us.

Not like the me was some tough somebody, or somebody she had put together for show. But like, like somebody she favored and could count on. A secret somebody you didn't have to feel sorry for or have to fight for. -Felice

If whiteness is an illusion, on what else can a poor man without prospects pride himself?

That anybody white could take your whole self for anything that came to mind. Not just work, kill, or maim you, but dirty you so bad you forgot who you were and couldn't think it up. And though she and others lived through and got over it, she could never let it happen to her own.

He wondered if there was anyone in the world who liked him. Liked him for himself alone.

That whites not only had no patent on Christianity; they were often its obstacle. That Jesus had been freed from white religion, and he wanted these kids to know that they did not have to beg for respect; it was already in them, and they needed only to display it.

You looking good. Devil's confusion. He lets me look good long as I feel bad. He looked at her and the word bad took on another meaning.

Sethe, he says, me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody. We need some kind of tomorrow. He leans over and takes her hand. With the other he touches her face. You your best thing, Sethe. You are. His holding fingers are holding hers. Me? Me?

Cuanto más se esforzaba la gente de color por convencerlos de lo buenos que eran, de lo inteligentes y cariñosos, de lo humanos que eran, cuanto más se esforzaban los negros en persuadir a los blancos de algo que a sus ojos estaba fuera de toda duda, más profunda e intrincada crecía la selva en su interior.

He leans over and takes her hand. With the other he touches her face. "You your best thing, Sethe. You are." His holding fingers are holding hers. "Me? Me?

A man ain't nothing but a man, said Baby Suggs. But a son? Well now, that's somebody

Not just work, kill, or maim you, but dirty you. Dirty you so bad you couldn't like yourself anymore. Dirty you so bad you forgot who you were and couldn't think it up.

That anybody white could take your whole self for anything that came to mind. Not just work, kill, or maim you, but dirty you. Dirty you so bad you couldn't like yourself anymore. Dirty you so bad you forgot who you were and couldn't think it up.

You your best thing, Sethe. You are." His holding fingers are holding hers. "Me? Me?

That anybody white could take your whole self for anything that came to mind. Not just work, kill, or maim you, but dirty you. Dirty you so bad you couldn't like yourself anymore. Dirty you so bad you forgot who you were and couldn't think it up. And though she and others lived through and