Quotes About Insecurity

Envy is a horrible thing. It is unlike all other kinds of suffering in that there is no disguising it, no elevating it into tragedy. It is more than merely painful, it is disgusting.

We may be together for another six months—a year—there's no knowing. At the end we're certain to be apart. Do you realize how utterly alone we shall be?

They fear love because it creates a world they can't control.

He was alone. The past was dead, the future was unimaginable. What certainty had he that a single human creature now living was on his side?

The point is that as soon as fear, hatred, jealousy and power worship are involved, the sense of reality becomes unhinged

Lo más característico de la vida moderna no era su crueldad ni su inseguridad, sino sencillamente su vaciedad, su absoluta falta de contenido.

But a child's belief in its own shortcomings is not much influenced by facts.

He felt as though he were wandering in the forests of the sea bottom, lost in a monstrous world where he himself was the monster. He was alone. The past was dead, the future was unimaginable. What certainty had he that a single human creature now living was on his side? And what way of knowing that the dominion of the Party would not endure for ever?

Su memoria [de Winston] fallaba mucho, es decir, no estaba lo suficientemente controlada.

You had to live—did live, from habit that became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinised.

His bowels seemed to turn to water.

Invidia e un lucru oribil. Se deosebeste de toate celelalte suferinte pentru ca nu poate fi deghizata, nu poate fi inaltata pana la tragedie. E mai mult decat simpla durere, e dezgustatoare.

WHAT WAS MORE, I ACTUALLY HAD A FEELING THAT THEY WERE AFTER ME ALREADY. THE WHOLE LOT OF THEM! ALL THE PEOPLE WHO COULDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY A MIDDLE-AGED MAN WITH FALSE TEETH SHOULD SNEAK AWAY FOR A QUIET WEEK IN THE PLACE WHERE HE SPENT HIS BOYHOOD. AND ALL THE MEAN-MINDED BASTARDS WHO COULD UNDERSTAND ONLY TOO WELL, AND WHO'D RAISE HEAVEN AND EARTH TO PREVENT IT. THEY WERE ALL ON MY TRACK.

Everything faded away into a shadow-world in which, finally, even the date of the year had become uncertain.

A Winston le sorprendía que lo más característico de la vida moderna no fuera su crueldad ni su inseguridad, sino sencillamente su vaciedad, su absoluta falta de contenido. La vida no se parecía, no sólo a las mentiras lanzadas por las telepantallas, sino ni siquiera a los ideales que el Partido trataba de lograr.

Weak people live in perpetual fear and foreboding.

That's it for me. I'm fucked. As per usual. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Although come to think of it I was never even the freaking bridesmaid. Look, show your cock. It's the shortest line between two points. The world ain't giving away nice lives. You got a trust fund? You a genius? Show your cock. It's what you got.

I can look back and see that I've spent much of my life in a cloud of things that have tended to push being kind to the periphery. Things like: Anxiety. Fear. Insecurity. Ambition. The mistaken belief that enough accomplishment will rid me of all that anxiety, fear, insecurity, and ambition. The belief that if I can only accrue enough -- enough accomplishment, money, fame -- my neuroses will disappear.

Doubt will fester as long as we live. And when one occasion of doubt has been addressed, another and then another will arise in its place.

Those stories tended to be located around the places where things went wrong, and people were cruel to one another, and so on. They reflected what was probably the most urgent truth operating in me at that time: oh, shit, things can go wrong, and if they do, people get hurt, and I might be one of them, in spite of the fact that I am, you know, me.

People always think we look for love at our lowest to distract us. I am convinced we do it because we want someone to look us in the eye, to look our ugly in the eye and still choose us. I didn't want a distraction, I wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway.

L'instabilité des choses a pour corrélat l'impuissance de l'homme.

I don't know how it is...but you seem to think me something wonderful, and indeed, I am not.

Reflect that you could have written the book so much better yourself, if only you had the time and the inclination for the task; and that the literate won't be listening, if you're speaking on air, or doing more than glance at your review, if it appears in print; and go right ahead! There will be no reprisals. If the author is young and struggling, he won't dare to expose your pretensions; and if he is well established he won't think it worth while to do so.