Quotes About Insecurity

Of course, I didn't imagine then that I could have had a real relationship with any guy. I thought that by virtue of being me I was disqualified.

And the reason I'm telling you all this is that I want you to know no one in my life has ever made me feel worse about myself than you.

It was more when things slowed down, during the parts when you were supposed to have fun, that my lack of friends felt obvious- on Saturday nights, when there dances I didn't go to, and during visitation... I spent those times hiding. Most of the other girls propped open their doors for visitation, but we kept ours shut.

Liz had tried not to experience the doubly insulting sting of being excluded by a person she didn't care for.

the things that made me most myself were a romantic turnoff, that no one would simultaneously value my intellect and find me attractive; I had wanted so badly to be wrong, and I'd struggled to find evidence that I was.

Go home, put on a pretty dress, some heels, and some lipstick, flirt with him, flatter him, and never forget how insecure men are. It's because they take themselves far too seriously.

his unguarded face is startlingly handsome; the truth is that I still can't believe a hot, smart, kind man loves me back.

now I wonder where I had gotten the idea that for you to participate in a gathering, the other people had to really, really want you to be there and that anything short of rabid enthusiasm on their part meant you'd be a nuisance.

I often messed up with people, it was true, but it rarely happened because I was reading them wrong; it was because I got nervous, or because I could see too clearly that I was not what they wanted. And, in fact, it was in falling short that I truly excelled.

I felt an old, visceral insecurity that manifested itself in an impulse to cover up our cribbage game, to literally shield the board with my hands.

My real frustration with Clara, I think, was that it seemed like she should be insecure but wasn't.

She did not at the bottom believe she ever would have him. She did not believe in herself primarily: doubted whether she could ever be what he would demand of her. Certainly she never saw herself living happily through a lifetime with him. She saw tragedy, sorrow, and sacrifice ahead.

There was a warmth of fury in his last phrases. He meant she loved him more than he her. Perhaps he could not love her. Perhaps she had not in herself that which he wanted. It was the deepest motive of her soul, this self-mistrust. It was so deep she dared neither realise nor acknowledge. Perhaps she was deficient. Like an infinitely subtle shame, it kept her always back. If it were so, she would do without him. She would never let herself want him. She would merely see.

She felt unpeeled and rather exposed. She felt almost improper.

He always ran away from the battle with himself. Even in his own heart's privacy, he excused himself, saying, If she hadn't said so-and-so, it would never have happened.

And she shrank away again, back into her darkness, and for a long while remained blotted safely away from living.

For how can a man stand, unless he have something sure under his feet. Can a man tread the unstable water all his life, and call that standing? Better give in and drown at once.

Te iubesc foarte mult.. dar undeva, lipseÈ™te ceva. - Unde? întreb? ea privindu-l. -O, în?untru, în mine. Eu ar trebui s? m? ruÈ™inez.. sunt un olog psihic.

She drops her art if anything else catches her. Her contrariness prevents her taking it seriously - she must never be serious, she feels she might give herself away. And she won't give herself away - she's always on the defensive. That's what I can't stand about her type.

You don't want to love—your eternal and abnormal craving is to be loved. You aren't positive, you're negative. You absorb, absorb, as if you must fill yourself up with love, because you've got a shortage somewhere.

She suddenly became aware of his keen blue eyes upon her, taking her all in. Instantly her broken boots and her frayed old frock hurt her. She resented his seeing everything. Even he knew that her stocking was not pulled up. She went into the scullery, blushing deeply. And afterwards her hands trembled slightly at her work, she nearly dropped all she handled. When her inside dream was shaken, her body quivered with trepidation. She resented that he saw so much.

Why do I like this so? Always something in his breast shrank from these close, intimate dazzled looks of hers. Why do you? he asked. I don't know - it seems so true.

It wasn't that I didn't trust Mark's flying, it was just that, okay, I didn't trust Mark's flying.

Jos teitä potkitaan ja arvostellaan, muistakaa, että niin tehdään usein siitä syystä, että potkija saa siitä tietynlaista tärkeyden tunnetta. Se merkitsee monesti, että saatte aikaan jotakin ja olette huomion arvoinen. Useat ihmiset saavat raakaa tyydytystä siitä, että loukkaavat niitä, jotka ovat sivistyneempiä kuin he tai menestyvät paremmin.