Quotes About Conformity

women who looked like fashion models—admitted to knowing, from the time they could first consciously think, that the ideal was someone tall, thin, white, and blond, a face without pores, asymmetry, or flaws, someone wholly "perfect," and someone whom they felt, in one way or another, they were not. I

I've always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself.

I don't belong to any side. What's more, I think flags are nothing but painted rags that represent rancid emotions. Just seeing someone wrapped up in one of them, spewing out hymns, badges and speeches, gives me the runs. I've always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself

La mayoría de las tradiciones no son más que las enfermedades de una sociedad.

Ich habe mir immer gedacht, wer sich einer Herde angehörig zugehörig fühlt, hat etwas von einem Hammel.

I don't belong to any side,' Fermín replied. 'What's more, I think flags are nothing but painted rags that represent rancid emotions. Just seeing someone wrapped up in one of them, spewing out hymns, badges and speeches, gives me the runs. I've always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself.

Sabe el loco que está loco? ¿O los locos son los demás, que se empeñan en convencerle de su sinrazón para salvaguardar su existencia de quimeras?

el único pecado que no se perdona en España es el de no tomar bando y resistirse a unirse a un rebaño u otro. Y donde hay rebaños de borregos siempre aparecen lobos hambrientos.

The rules make provisions for everything, especially on occasions when one doesn't know what to do.

Chi ama appartenere a un gregge deve avere qualcosa della pecora.

Yo no soy de ningún bando —repuso Fermín—. Es más, las banderas me parecen trapos de colores que huelen a rancio y me basta ver a cualquiera que se envuelva en ellas y se le llene la boca de himnos, escudos y discursos para que me entren cagarrinas. Siempre he pensado que el que siente mucho apego a un rebaño es que tiene algo de borrego.

El único pecado que no se perdona en España es el de no tomar bando y resistirse a unirse a un rebaño u otro

think flags are nothing but painted rags that represent rancid emotions. Just seeing someone wrapped up in one of them, spewing out hymns, badges and speeches, gives me the runs. I've always thought that anyone who needs to join a herd so badly must be a bit of a sheep himself.

Wariatem jest ten, kto ma si? za ca?kowicie normalnego, a za nienormalnych uwa?a ca?? reszt?.

Hester, in the dark conclusion of Hawthorne's brooding novel, reassumes the Puritan mantle….Hawthorne thus captures the catch-22 of feminism: the very woman who is able to envision a new order of living is, by the same token, unable, since the passion that enables her also adulterates her in the eyes of the Puritans. Released from goodness, she is imprisoned in badness, within the framework of the puritanical order. But her mind is free to question the order.

Women were supposed to be strong, but they weren't really, they weren't allowed to be.

Something, someone, cut off her head, yanked out her tongue. My mother is a middle-aged woman, a middle-class woman, a woman of moderate intelligence and medium-sized ego and average good luck, so that you would expect her to land somewhere near the middle of the world. Instead she's over there at the edge. The least vibration could knock her off.

And why did everyone persist in thinking the mute was exactly as they wanted him to be--when most likely it was all a very queer mistake?... In the battling tumult of voices he alone was silent.

There was someone called Hippasus in Greek times who found out about the diagonal of a square and they drowned him because no one wanted to know about things like that. Like what? Numbers that make you uncomfortable and don't relate to oranges.

Janis believed that groups are especially likely to suffer from groupthink if they are cohesive, have highly directive leadership, and are insulated from experts.

Were we lost and unaccounted for, or was this where we truly belonged and our normal lives the original error?

Have thine own way, Lord! Have thine own way! Thou art the Potter and I am the clay.

The men I've been with have this idea to make me over. I feel like a rock in some boy's polishing kit. I go in dull, scratched up, and then rumble rumble whirr, I'm supposed to come out precious and sparkling again. Does it work? They seem to think so. How do you feel? I asked. A little smaller. (1998: 148- 149)

Most of us can't accept that the gig is ours, so we lurk around, we tug and scratch at ourselves as if in borrowed skins, and never fully belong to the moments that can steadily add up to nothing a lot quicker than you think.