Quotes About Self-doubt

if you shall seem to some to be a person of importance, distrust yourself.

If you are praised by others, be skeptical of yourself.

One thing I know beyond doubt. Had [Babbage] overheard someone he respected praise him highly it would have sweetened life for him for more than a day. We are starved for praise. It reconciles us with life. . . . Self-doubt is at the core of our being. We need people who by their attitude and words will convince us that we are not as bad as we think we are. Hence the vital role of judicious praise.

The self-confidence of even the consistently successful is never absolute. They are never sure that they know all the ingredients which go into the making of their success. The

With success came a new, deeper doubt that any activity, even his cherished writing, could make life mean anything.

But instead of spending our lives running towards our dreams, we are often running away from a fear of failure or a fear of criticism.

Though my friends envied me because I always seemed so cheerful and confident, I was secretly terrified of practically everything.

I went for years not finishing anything. Because, of course, when you finish something you can be judged...I had poems which were re-written so many times I suspect it was just a way of avoiding sending them out.

Why should anyone be so grateful for acceptance unless he doubts that he is acceptable, and why should a young, educated and successful couple have such doubts, if not due to the fact that they cannot accept themselves because they are not themselves.

If she'd learned anything about herself over the years it was that self-doubt inevitably led to self-destruction.

She's not a straight-A student, but she's also not stupid. She just thinks she is, which sucks in ways that make me want to do horrible, vile things to whoever made her feel that way.

I was terrified of my weakness, of my sharp tongue, of my every flaw. I was terrified that this moment, my chance to live in happiness for however short a time we may have had, would be ruined because I was simply not carved out of the same wood as happiness, and that my grain was too twisted to ever take its form.

Era la giovinezza? Era mai stato così sicuro di sè, anche quando era giovane? Era stato l'essere ferito a fargli desiderare di arrotolarsi in una palla di protezione e dire al mondo di lasciarlo in pace

That must be rough, wanting to be the rag doll, wishing you were the ragged thing, when all you did wrong was be too perfect.

I'm stupid. I mean, God. My first relationship was a clusterfuck of entrapment—you know that.

My father taught me to judge and judge hard and judge mean. And I learned that lesson so well, I judged myself right into a fucking corner." "And then what?" Lance asked. "I gnawed off my own leg to get out of it." Henry let out a broken laugh.

Because I'm supposed to be straight. I can't be gay, or stupid, or a failure. I can't. If I'm gay or stupid or a fuck-up, that means she left me and not him!

I failed first grade, which is my biggest problem. You always feel like a failure, like you're stupid.

The tension between "yes" and "no," between "I can" and "I cannot," makes us feel that, in so many instances, human life is an interminable debate with one's self.

but nothing feels as bad as the booing inside your own head during those ten minutes before you fall asleep.

Pero, ¿y si resulta que estoy jugando lo mejor que sé, si me preocupo, si quiero ganar, y aun así no soy el mejor del mundo? Eso, dímelo tú. ¿Y si no lo eres? Creo que preferiría morir. Me apoyo en la barandilla y sollozo. J. P. tiene la decencia, la sabiduría de no decir ni hacer nada. Sabe que no hay nada que decir, salvo esperar a que se extinga el fuego.

Most of the time I feel stupid, insensitive, mediocre, talentless and vulnerable—like I'm about to cry any second—and wrong. I've found that when that happens, it usually means I'm writing pretty well, pretty deeply, pretty rawly.

I cared what everybody thought more than what I thought. Or more than my heart thought. And that makes me an idiot.

A man writes because he is tormented, because he doubts. He needs to constantly prove to himself and the others that he's worth something. And if I know for sure that I'm a genius? Why write then? What the hell for?