Quotes About Comparison

I swallowed at once envying and adoring all the ways in which the word lovely could refer to my mother. So strange still, how different we were.

I think I look like a leopard," she remarked, pulling back to inspect her spotted arms and legs. Then that mischievous smile blossomed over her gorgeous lips. "Want to play connect the dots?

j'aime mieux tes lèvres que mes livres

It is easier to compare oneself, to establish social exchange as that swapmeet of glory and contempt where each person receives a superiority in exchange for the inferiority he confesses to.

H?rsl?lar, kendilerini kimseden a?a?? saymamakla kazand?klar? zihinsel gücü, kendilerini ba?ka herkesten üstün saymakla kaybederler

Pues, en fin, ¿qué diferencia hay entre un pagano y un cristiano? No mucha. Una pequeña diferencia acerca de la interpretación de la Naturaleza. El pagano cree en la naturaleza tal como esta se muestra; el cristiano cree en la naturaleza, pero según el reverso que la sustenta

A vertical battled pitted the Italians against the Austrians, who were starving up in the mountains. The Italians also sent men to the firing squad "to set an example". I couldn't make up my mind which was more appalling: the mining war or the mountain war. And between an Italian general and a French one, I wouldn't've known which one to shoot first.

Esto es como el circo Romano, como la inauguración del Anfiteatro Flavio por el emperador Tito. Mas de dos mil años de diferencia y nada ha cambiado.

He wanted to make a copy to send back to his sister – the one who'd been smart enough to finish college and was working for Weyland-Yutani as a forensic xenobiologist. She made disgustingly good money. Still, he got laid a lot more often. It was all a matter of perspective.

Mauve is just pink trying to be purple.

You're a fine little boy," Mr. Starr, said. "But it isn't nice of you to lord it over your sister." "What's 'lord it'?" "Brag about things you can do, that she can't do yet. That isn't nice.

That——that butterfly has got more of God in him than Jackson will ever see for the rest of eternity.

That's my boy," he said warmly. "Six years old, and he can already read like I couldn't read when I was twice his age." Rufus felt a sudden hollowness in his voice, and all along the bar, and in his own heart. But how does he fight, he thought. You don't brag about smartness if your son is brave. He felt the anguish of shame, but his father did not seem to notice, except that as suddenly as he had lifted him up to the bar, he gently lifted him down again.

Sos tan alto que tu cabeza choca la luna de plata y desde abajito yo siento que no te lavás las patas.

When we ran, if we chose to, we ran like flashes of silk. We had the vigor of those freshly born. Relatively speaking. And no, we wouldn't be like this forever. We knew it, on a rational level. But the idea that those garbage-like figures that tottered around the great house were a vision of what lay in store—hell no. Had they had goals once? A simple sense of self-respect? They shamed us. They were a cautionary tale.

The most beautiful statue that Powers ever chiseled does not compare for grace and beauty with the Divine model. The same mystic element of life is wanting.

It is the custom when praising a Russian writer to do so at the expense of all other Russian writers.

Did you know that many non-organic foods today have up to 50% fewer vitamins and minerals than the food your grandparents ate?

Mabel likened Lavinia's hand to a demented spider who has fallen into an inkwell.

She turns around. Nice ass. Bad, too. Please let me some day kick as much of it as she does.

Then there are the other days, when nothing is enough. The poem grins. It grins because it knows it is a terrible poem. It grins in embarrassment. It grins in pity. It grins in superiority. I may be a terrible poem, it grins, but at least I have one comfort. At least I'm not a terrible *poet*. At least I'm not the guy who sat in front of a typewriter for two hours coming up with the likes of *me*.

The unspoken truth was that New Yorkers considered everyone in the world to be just a tad - well, more than just a tad, a lot more than a tad - old-fashioned compared with themselves.

There are some people men and women both who will never be happy no matter what the circumstances they find themselves. There's not enough money, no Castle grand enough, no life easy enough to content them.

I dislike taking sleeping draughts, they make me feel as if my head is stuffed with wet cotton wool in the morning." "Sometimes I believe it is, for shame, comparing yourself to an ox, you sound like a dairymaid. Josephine, did you sleep well?