Quotes About Humility

O Lord, help me not to despise or oppose what I do not understand.

Bugiardo! Bugiardo bastardo! Dicci, dov'è la tua umiltà, Merrin? Dove l'hai lasciata, nel deserto? Nelle rovine? Nelle tombe dove cerchi di fuggire dal tuo prossimo? Fuggire dagli ultimi, da quelli che non hanno una mente acuta come la tua? Sei capace di parlare agli uomini, feccia d'un prete?…»

Humility is indeed beatness, a compulsory virtue that no one exhibits unless he has to.

Nobody stands taller than those willing to stand corrected.

What can I tell you, except the stupid little I know?

I have sounded the very base-string of humility.

There is not one wise man in twenty that will praise himself.

We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

My pride fell with my fortunes.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility.

Small things make base men proud.

Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;And let us all to meditation.

Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.

'Tis a common proof,That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;But when he once attains the upmost round,He then unto the ladder turns his back,Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degreesBy which he did ascend.

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,With bated breath, and whispering humbleness,Say this.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,My gay apparel for an almsman's gown.

Have more than thou showest,Speak less than thou knowest,Lend less than thou owest.

She that was ever fair and never proud,Had tongue at will and yet was never loud.

He that has and a little tiny wit,With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,Must make content with his fortunes fit,Though the rain it raineth every day.

Press not a falling man too far.

I humbly do beseech you of your pardonFor too much loving you.

'Tis better to be lowly born,And range with humble livers in content,Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring griefAnd wear a golden sorrow.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks.

What should such fellows as I do crawling between heaven and earth? We are arrant knaves, all.