Quotes About Rejection

The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply.

That delicately bronzed skin, almost oriental in its coloring, that raven hair, the large liquid eyes, the full but exquisite lips,—all the stigmata of passion were there. But I was sadly conscious that up to now I had never found the secret of drawing it forth. However, come what might, I should have done with suspense and bring matters to a head tonight. She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother.

I have heard your reasons and regard them as unconvincing and inadequate.

She could but refuse me, and better be a repulsed lover than an accepted brother.

Just that sometimes we let other people treat us wrongly because we want to be loved and accepted so badly that we'd do anything for it. It hurts when you know that no matter how much you try, how much you want it, they can't love or accept you as you are. Then you hate all that time you wasted trying to please them and wonder what about you is so awful that they couldn't at least pretend to love you.

In ten years I will be a beautiful charming lovely lady writer without any husband or children but lots of lovers and everyone will read the books I write and want to marry me but I will never marry any of them. I will have lots of money and jewels too.

Do you always go where you're not wanted?" Eleanor smiled placidly. "I've never been wanted anywhere," she said.

It was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a fit place for people or for love or for hope.

Ich versteh dich nicht.« Theodora schmiss ärgerlich ihren Stift hin. »Gehst du immer dahin, wo du nicht erwünscht bist?« Eleanor lächelte friedfertig. »Ich bin noch nirgendwo erwünscht gewesen«, sagte sie.

Fancy was a liar. She had been with Aunt Fanny and dared not admit to running away. She had not been frightened, but she enjoyed teasing people weaker than herself. Not a servant, or an animal, or any child in the village near the house, would willingly go near her.

I have decided to ask you to please go away." "All right," he said. "You asked me." "Please will you go away?" "No," he said. I could not think of anything further to say.

My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides , the death-cap mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.

Meh onu umeh khayeynu—what do folks like us count? Moshul kekheres hanishbor—we're just so much scrap in their eyes. Except that real scrap isn't thrown away so easily …

I don't know how it is with other writers, but I've been treated like the lowest of the low.

You say you're going like a house afire, Mendl? Why don't you jump into the flames! I wouldn't come see you in Boiberik if you were on your deathbed!

Cockney girl who was already beneath his tastes. He quit

I never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me as a member

Conscience is the internal perception of the rejection of a particular wish operating in us.

That others rejected it too, and still do, I find less surprising. 'For the little children do not like it' when there is talk of man's inborn tendency to 'wickedness', to aggression and destruction, and therefore to cruelty.

The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest till it has gained a hearing. Finally, after a countless succession of rebuffs, it succeeds.

his endearment fell on deaf ears like a stone dropping into an empty well.

But I must admit I didn´t like that idea; do the same thing as everyone else. Eating to live, living to eat - that had been the nightmare of my adolescence. If it meant going back to that, if would be just as well to turn on the gas at once. But I suppose everyone thinks of things like that: let´s turn on the gas at once. And you don´t turn it on.

If I were the earth it would disgust me, all this vermin on my back, I'd shake it off.

It is because I reject lies and running away that I am accused of pessimism; but this rejection implies hope — the hope that truth may be of use. And this is a more optimistic attitude than the choice of indifference, ignorance or sham.