Quotes About Bitterness

Vendo passar amantes Nem propriamente inveja ou ódio sinto, Mas um rancor e uma aversão imensa Ao universo inteiro, por cobri-los.

No pleasure but meanness

Maybe people become bitter when they don't know what they are fighting for. But I keep my eyes open.

It is only the forcible propagation of conventional Christianity that makes the agnostic so bitter toward the church. He knows that all the doctrines cannot possibly be true, but he would view them with toleration if he were asked merely to let them alone for the benefit of the masses whom they can help and succour.

I cannot but be grieved to go from my native land, and especially from that part of it for whom and with whom I desired only to live; yet the dreadful apprehensions I have of what is coming upon this land may help to make me submissive to this providence, though more bitter.

It was the wont of the immortal gods sometimes to grant prosperity and long impunity to men whose crimes they were minded to punish in order that a complete reverse of fortune might make them suffer more bitterly.

There are a lot of ways to make people not like you, but one of the most powerful - if least fair - is to be really, really successful. Nobody resents the guy who just lost his job. But the guy whose Internet start-up made him a billionaire at 25? That's a whole different kettle of envy.

I learned a long time ago, if you want to keep your friends in show business, don't get famous. Because as soon as you get famous, a lot of the people you used to know, who didn't, become incredibly bitter and jealous. It's part of the territory.

Any designer believes his gun is the best, and when its test performance is a bit less impressive compared to others, he feels bitterness and envy.

I stared at her, thinking: of course, how would she know about bitterness, how would she know about the artist at all? caught in a mystery for which he must find some answer, both for himself and for his fellow men, a mystery of good and evil, of blossom and rot — the mystery of a world which learns too late, which is the mold, and which the bloom . . .

anger has a "poisoned root and honeyed tip.

I try to find the books that I lost or forgot more than 30 years ago on another continent, with the hope and dedication and bitterness of those who search for their first lost books, books that if found I wouldn't read anyway, because I've already read them over and over, but that I would look at and touch just as the miser strokes the coins under which he's buried...Books are like ghosts

He also discovered that he was bitter and full of resentment, that he oozed resentment, and that he might easily kill someone, anyone, if it would provide a respite from the loneliness and rain and cold of Madrid, but this was a discovery that he preferred to conceal.

I wonder if I can write this history, or if on every page there will be some sneaking show of a bitterness I thought long dead. I think myself cured of all spite, but when I touch pen to paper, the hurt of a boy bleeds out with the sea-spawned ink, until I suspect each carefully formed black letter scabs over some ancient scarlet wound.

What I said to you earlier, I was angry, I was..." "Right on target." The sound he made might have been a laugh, if not so freighted with bitterness. "Only in the way that people who know one another best know how to hurt one another best," I pleaded.

Pain has a flavor.

She swore vengeance on all men with dark hearts.

I mean, there's not much to it. You're born, you're loved, you die. Where's the excitement, the drama? Where are the blow-out fights, the tentative makeups? The estrangements? The seething bitterness? The dysfunction?

Her smile grew bitter as desert brine. The gods may forgive Ista all day long. But if Ista does not forgive Ista, the gods may go hang themselves.

Her smile grew bitter as desert brine. "The gods may forgive Ista all day long. But if Ista does not forgive Ista, the gods may go hang themselves.

I have no doubt you'll find it the highlight of your old and wasted life.

Forgiveness lives alone and far off down the road, but bitterness and art are close, gossipy neighbors, sharing the same clothesline, hanging out their things, getting their laundry confused.

Poor Meg seldom complained, but a sense of injustice made her feel bitter toward everyone sometimes, for she had not yet learned to know how rich she was in the blessings which alone can make life happy.

For in that sad yet happy hour, she had learned not only the bitterness of remorse and despair, but the sweetness of self-denial and self-control, and led by her mother's hand, she had drawn nearer to the Friend who always welcomes every child with a love stronger than that of any father, tenderer than that of any mother.