Quotes About Comparison

Je voyais qu'il étaient remplis d'une admiration stupide : elle est si démesurément supérieure à eux ... à n'importe qui sur terre, n'est-ce pas ?

But there's this one difference: one is gold put to the use of paving-stones, and the other is tin polished to ape a service of silver. Mine has nothing valuable about it; yet I shall have the merit of making it go as far as such poor stuff can go. His had first-rate qualities, and they are lost, rendered worst than unavailing.

GöreceÄŸiz bakal?m ayn? h?rpalay?c? rüzgar kar??s?nda baÅŸka baÅŸka iki aÄŸaç ay?n? biçimde bozulur muymuÅŸ, bozulmaz m?ym???

The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee...

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a Diver - Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest, Her heart is fit for home- I- a Sparrow- build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest.

The career of flowers differs from ours only in inaudibleness. I feel more reverence as I grow for these mute creatures whose suspense or transport may surpass my own.

Her face is rounder than the moon

I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the Wren, and my Hair is bold, like the Chestnut Bur – and my eyes, like the Sherry in the Glass, that the Guest leaves

I died for Beauty—but was scarce Adjusted in the Tomb When One who died for Truth, was lain In an adjoining Room— He questioned softly Why I failed? For Beauty, I replied— And I—for Truth—Themself are One— We Brethren, are, He said— And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night— We talked between the Rooms— Until the Moss had reached our lips— And covered up—Our names—

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a "Diver" – Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest. Her heart is fit for home – I – a Sparrow- build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest

The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and you—beside—

How different this moment feels, for so many reasons. I tell myself that no two loves are identical - but that I don't have to compare anymore.

I'm far from fat, but her using me as a sounding board on this topic is like me complaining to a blind woman that I have to wear contacts.

First of all, it's impossible not to compare. When you go down a fork in a road, it's impossible not to think about that other path. Wonder what your life could have been like…

I have a fleeting fantasy of telling her that procreation isn't a contest, any more than SAT scores and making the cheerleading squad and getting into a good college and all the other things, both big and small, that she turned into a contest when Janie and I were young, going all the way back to whose baby teeth came in first, according to my mother.

The late afternoon sun highlighted all her lines and wrinkles, making her look older than I thought of her as. Then again, she probably was in her early seventies by now, which somehow seemed so much older than one's late sixties.

Have you seen it...Singin' in the rain, have you seen it? ...His answer was all in his face, scornful and baffled at once. Money makes me ask stupid questions. He wanted it, of course, because someone else didn't have it. Debbie Reynolds dies in the end, I told him.

It was like wanting ice cream instead of meat loaf, and being told that children in refugee camps would be grateful for the meat loaf. Yes, of course she had nothing to complain about, compared to so many people, but when had that ever stopped anyone from complaining? Happiness was a balloon that always hovered just out of arm's reach.

I tell you frankly, Mrs. Damer, the more I see of different nations, the less sure I feel about the pre-eminence of my own.

You may be a failure at the moment – but you're a very fine failure, Darrell! You're a lot better than some people who think they're a success.

You display inordinate pride for someone who has completed a task which could have been performed by a lesser primate in a shorter time.

And suddenly I was afraid. My father, the man whose shoes I had been trying to fill for two years, was awake. Would he still live up to my expectations? Would I live up to his?

Pex and Chips were closer now, discussing the merits of various fictional characters. 'Captain Hook rocks,' said Pex. 'He would kick Barney's purple butt ten times out of ten.' Chips sighed. 'You're missing the whole point of Barney. It's a values thing. Butt-kicking is not the issue.

Unlike fairies who could produce only a single child every twenty years, Mud People bred like rodents.