Quotes About Insecurity

A frigid woman is never jealous, you simply haven't caught up yet on ordinary human emotions.

I measured love by the extent of my jealousy

Henry was living in a terrible insecurity. To that extent his plight was worse than mine. I had the security of possessing nothing.

and I took her words as an insult and walked straight out and down the stairs and into the street. Is this the end, I wondered, playacting to myself? There's no need ever to go back. If I can get her out of my system, can't I find somewhere a quiet friendly marriage that would go on and on? Then perhaps I wouldn't feel jealous because I wouldn't love enough: I would just be secure, and my self-pity and hatred walked hand in hand across the darkening Common like idiots without a keeper.

Oh, and there was pride, of course. It takes a long time before we cease to feel proud of being wanted. Though God knows why we should feel it, when we look around and see who is wanted too.

The music pealed on under the Chinese lanterns and the pink spotlight featured the singer holding the microphone closer to his starched shirt. 'You been in love?' the Boy asked sharply and uneasily. 'Oh yes,' Rose said. The Boy retorted with sudden venom, 'You would have been. You're green. You don't know what people do.

I had no memory at all of Sarah and I was completely free from anxiety, jealousy, insecurity, hate: my mind was a blank sheet on which somebody had just been on the point of writing a message of happiness. I felt sure that when my memory came back, the writing would continue and that I should be happy.

She had so much more capacity for love than I had - I couldn't bring down that curtain round the moment, I couldn't forget and I couldn't not fear. Even in the moment of love, I was like a police officer gathering evidence of a crime that hadn't yet been committed [...]

It was as if she were accumulating evidence that she had friends like other people.

The first colours touched the garden, deep green and then deep red – transience was my pigmentation; my roots would never go deep enough anywhere to make me a home or make me secure with love.

Because I couldn't bear the thought of her so much as touching another man, I feared it all the time, and I saw intimacy in the most casual movement of her hand.

We are fools when we love. I was terrified of losing her. I thought I saw her changing--I don't know if she really was, but I couldn't bear the uncertainty any longer. I ran toward the finish just like a coward runs toward the enemy and wins a medal. I wanted to get death over.

Maybe I'm growing up, Thomas'. But there were tears in his voice, and he looked younger than he had ever done.

I refused to believe that love could take any other form than mine: I measured love by the extent of my jealousy

It makes you feel sort of cheap and titchy. Like it's looking down at you, saying, I'm Canterbury Cathedral, who the hell are you?

There will never be a good time, financially, to get married, unless you're Shaq or Ray Romano. But somehow people manage. If your man is using money as an excuse not to marry you, it's your relationship that's insecure, not his bank account.

Feeling in love (or lust) and fear feel a lot alike. They both give you that anxious butterfly feeling in your stomach, a sense of excitement, and a general unease physically and mentally. It's easy to confuse love with fear.

A good indication that it's not is if you're only staying with What's His Name because you're scared.

Falling in love (or lust) and fear feel a lot alike. They both give you that anxious butterfly feeling in your stomach, a sense of excitement, and a general unease physically and mentally. It's easy to confuse love with fear.

treachery, weakness, envy, fanaticism—the most destructive forces available to man.

He began to wonder if there was something wrong with him.

He's a narcissist, and I wonder what it says about me that I'm willing to sleep with a man whose eyes constantly look past me in search of his own reflection.

Nothing makes a person feel worse than knowing you've inspired pity. It's a knife in the chest. A scalpel across the neck.

And since you've never talked about it, you don't know even how to really frame your thoughts. You fear that your words will tumble out in a way that will only make things worse.