Quotes About Comparison

the Dreadnought's predecessors of the King Edward VII class with a standard displacement of 16,350 tons could steam at 18.5 knots with 18,000 h.p. from their reciprocating engines; Dreadnought, of 17,900 tons, steamed 21.6 knots on her trials from 23,000 h.p.

You're basically killing each other to see who's got the better imaginary friend.

The lawyers I saw there had about as much in common with the man who had defended me at fifteen as automated machine rifle fire has with farting.

No son humanos, se relacionan con la humanidad del mismo modo que usted y yo nos relacionamos con el mundo de los insectos.

Jealousy is always a mask for fear: fear that we aren't able to get what we want; frustration that somebody else seems to be getting what is rightfully ours even if we are too frightened to reach for it. At its root, jealousy is a stingy emotion.

Jealousy tells us there is room for only one—one poet, one painter, one whatever you dream of being.

Your jealousy map will have three columns. In the first column, name those whom you are jealous of. Next to each name write why. Be as specific and accurate as you can. In the third column, list one action you can take to move toward creative risk and out of jealousy.

Jealousy is a map. It tells us—with excruciating precision—just where and for what we yearn.

Seeking to value ourselves, we look to others for assurance. If what we are doing, threatens them, they cannot give it. If what we envision is larger than what they can see, they cannot give support for what it is we are doing.

The German birds didn't taste as good as their French cousins, nor did the frozen Dutch chickens we bought in the local supermarkets. The American poultry industry had made it possible to grow a fine-looking fryer in record time and sell it at a reasonable price, but no one mentioned that the result usually tasted like the stuffing inside of a teddy bear.

There are two essential kinds of loneliness: that of not having found someone to love, and that of having been deprived of the one you did love. The first kind is worse. Nothing can compare to the loneliness of the soul in adolescence.

Back then, things were plainer: less money, no electronic devices, little fashion tyranny, no girlfriends. There was nothing to distract us from our human and filial duty which was to study, pass exams, use those qualifications to find a job, and then put together a way of life unthreateningly fuller than that of our parents, who would approve, while privately comparing it to their own earlier lives, which had been simpler, and therefore superior.

Me and my books, in the same apartment: like a gherkin in its vinegar.

This was another of our fears: that Life wouldn't turn out to be like Literature. Look at our parents- were they the stuff of Literature?

I am a worm in comparison with His Excellency. I am a worm.' 'Yes, that's just it, you are a worm indeed.

There was nothing to distract us from our human and filial duty, which was to study, pass exams, use those qualifications to find a job, and then put together a way of life unthreateningly fuller than that of our parents, who would approve, while privately comparing it to their own earlier lives, which had been simpler, and therefore superior. None of this, of course, was ever stated: the genteel social Darwinism of the English middle classes always remained implicit.

I don't envy the young. In my days of adolescent rage and insolence, I would ask myself: What are the old for, if not to envy the young? That seemed to me their principal and final purpose before extinction.

Yes, she is older; yes, she knows more about the world. But in terms of—what shall I call it? the age of her spirit, perhaps—we aren't that far apart.

She preferred to be at the receiving end of envy than pity.

Mr Pope, there is no "Lady Maria and I". It is an absurd concept. You must understand just this: my daughter is a jewel as far above you as the stars.

The past, as we have been told so many times, is a foreign country where things are done differently.

The servants really were worse than the rats

John thought himself irresponsible, but surely women were a safer addiction than gambling.

Did that kiss nearly destroy the memory of all other kisses, and become the benchmark against which all future kisses would be measured?