Quotes About Insecurity

My father, Zeus, did not love me. The demigods at Camp Half-Blood did not love me. Python and the Beast and his comrades at Triumvirate Holdings did not love me. It was almost enough to make me question my self-worth. No, no. That was crazy talk.

I'm scared, Nico mumbled. He was fiddling with something—a little metal toy soldier of some kind. Stop talking! Dr. Thorn said. Face me!

No man may be completely invulnerable.

Exquisitely painful, isn't it? Not being sure who you love and loves you? -Aphrodite

Leo fell in love with every girl he saw-as long as she was completely out of his league.

I was starting to believe him, and that scared the baked beans out of me.

Whose opinion matters most to you? Whoever that person is, is your god. When you value anyone's opinions more than God's, you give that person power and authority that belongs only to God. That creates all kinds of insecurity within you. On the other hand, when God's approval matters the most to you, it sets you free from insecurity, because he will never reject you.

When you don't know whom you're trying to please, you cave in to three things: criticism (because you are concerned about what others will think of you), competition (because you worry about whether somebody else is getting ahead of you), and conflict (because you're threatened when anyone disagrees with you).

Only secure people can serve. Insecure people are always worrying about how they appear to others. They fear exposure of their weaknesses and hide beneath layers of protective pride and pretensions. The more insecure you are, the more you will want people to serve you, and the more you will need their approval.

Many people are driven by the need for approval. They allow the expectations of parents or spouses or children or teachers or friends to control their lives. Many adults are still trying to earn the approval of unpleasable parents. Others are driven by peer pressure, always worried by what others might think. Unfortunately, those who follow the crowd usually get lost in it.

Every guy you saw these days had shaved away his male-pattern baldness in a futile attempt to look hard rather than merely hairless.

She was wearing a skimpy top that belonged on a teenager but it revealed her neat, hard biceps (she definitely worked out) and at least she had triceps, unlike Amelia, who had the kind of swinging underarm flesh that would have made it easy for her to glide among the treetops.

The standards of beauty in America's über-culture are purposefully set too high so that we will buy anything in our frantic scramble to become attractive. We are meant to feel crushed, inadequate, and less-than so that we'll buy more and more things in the vain hope of fixing ourselves.

There was something scary about watching adults sleep. It was as if no one at all were in charge of the world.

Flora hated the phrase "correct me if I'm wrong." In her experience, people only said it when they knew they were right.

Something large and dark had entered Room 102 of the Good Night, Sleep Tight, and the large, dark thing was sitting right on top of my chest. I could not breathe.

What they do no' understand, they fear, and they hate what makes them afraid, for they think it is a sign o' weakness.

The more subtle inheritance of my strange childhood was the feeling, which we all shared to some extent, of believing we were never quite going about things correctly. Had I said the right thing? Had I worn the right clothes? Was I attractive? These questions were unsettling and self-absorbing, even overwhelming at times, and remained so throughout much of my adult life, until, at last, I grew impatient with dwelling on the past.

Everyone thought I was bold and fearless and even arrogant, but inside I was always quaking.

Oh, of course, I always feel unconfident.

All my dreams of leaving, but beneath them I was afraid to go. I had clung to them, to Rass, yes, even to my grandmother, afraid that if I loosened my fingers an iota, I would find myself once more cold and clean in a forgotten basket.

They were always nice to Jess when he went over, but then they would suddenly begin talking about French politics or string quartets (which he at first thought was a square box made out of string), or how to save the timber wolves or redwoods or singing whales, and he was scared to open his mouth and show once and for all how dumb he was.

But the other thing I felt—that no one had ever told me I might—was that as much as I loved him, I could never be totally sure that I wanted him around forever. I did not know if my life was categorically "better" for having him here.

She hadn't withdrawn, not exactly. But putting her heart, herself out there, she risked being hurt—again. She risked that feeling of somehow never doing it right, of never being able to measure up, of somehow lacking some essence that others seemed to carry confidently on their shoulders. The dress might prove to Joanne and herself that of course she could. She'd start small, though. She'd experiment a little, take a few more risks like the satiny red dress.