Quotes About Pride

True, I have my weak points; but were I a man, I should adore them. They arise from what is most promising in me.

Glory is a poison, good to be taken only in small doses.

Therefore you see, my friend, that I am not a woman. You do wrong to love me. What! am I to leave the ethereal regions of my pretended strength, make myself humbly small, cringe like the hapless female of all species, that you may lift me up? and then, when I, helpless and broken, ask you for help, when I need your arm, you will repulse me! No, we can never come to terms.

When women are secretly to blame they often show ostensibly the utmost womanly pride. It is a dissimulation of mind for which we ought to be obliged to them. The deception is full of dignity, if not of grandeur.

I felt how important the simplest things were, like feeling proud, finding something funny, stretching yourself, retreating into yourself.

Tutto intorno a me era come un anello d'amore, innumerevoli anelli, tanto da sembrare di essere al centro di un arcobaleno. Qualcosa di grande mi avrebbe protetto, ovunque mi fossi trovata e in qualsiasi momento, e se anche la superbia me l'avesse fatto dimenticare, se la sensazione di stare vivendo da sola mi avesse fatto agire con imprudenza, quel qualcosa lo avrebbe accettato e accolto.

It made me excessively angry to be called a blooming Yank. I am a Yankee, and I have been known to bloom, but I can't stand having a low-class Britisher apply that term to me as if it were an opprobrious thing to be.

No man worth his salt, no man of spirit and spine, no man for whom I could have any respect, could rejoice in the identification of Tallulah's husband. It's tough enough to be bogged down in a legend. It would be even tougher to marry one.

People who enjoy waving flags don't deserve to have one.

The fifties was the last great age of queerdom. All the talk now is of freedom and pride (pride!), but there young hotheads in their pink bell-bottoms, clamouring for the right to do it in the streets if they feel like it, do not seem to appreciate, or at least seem to wish to deny, the aphrodisiac properties of secrecy and fear.

Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation - not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago.

I love myself. Anything that has my name I'm tickled to death.

wanting her parents' approval, needing to think she was making them proud. Parents held a remarkable power over their children. It didn't matter how old those children grew, or how distant in their everyday lives. They received messages from their parents from the moment of birth. Those messages were nearly as deeply etched on the psyche as hair, eyes, and height in the genes.

If you can attribute your success entirely to your own mental effort, to your own attitude, to some spiritual essence that you have that is better than other people's, then that must feel pretty good.

We are all proprietary toward cities we love. 'Ah, you should have seen her when I loved her!' we say, reciting glories since faded or defiled, trusting her to no one else; that others should know and love her in her present fallen state (for she must fall without our vigilant love) is a species of betrayal.

See, that's all you're thinking about, is winning. You're confirming your sense of self- worth through outward reward instead of through inner appreciation.

If ever a man existed who had every right to be puffed up with his own conceit, Rosellen thought, it was Wynn in evening clothes.

Pride is a thin substitute for sincere, openhearted dignity.

Vainglory, however, no matter how much medieval Christianity insisted it was a sin, is a motor of mankind, no more eradicable than sex.

Extravagant sartorial display had a purpose. It created the impression of wealth and power on the opponent and pride in the wearer which has been lost sight of in our nervously egalitarian times.

Money was evil, beauty vain, and both were transitory. Ambition was pride, desire for gain was avarice, desire of the flesh was lust, desire for honor, even for knowledge and beauty, was vainglory. Insofar as these diverted man from seeking the life of the spirit, they were sinful.

The limitation prompting folly " was an attitude of superiority so dense as to be impenetrable.

The tribal pull of patriotism could have no better testimony.

Whatever our lot may be, August 4, 1914, will remain for all eternity one of Germany's greatest days!