Quotes About Pride

Besides, nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner. Conscience makes egotists of us all.

In literature mere egotism is delightful.

In fact, now you mention the subject, I have been very bad in my own small way. I don't think you should be so proud of that, though I am sure it must have been very pleasant.

Los ingleses tienen 3 cosas de las que mostrarse orgullosos: El té, el whisky y un escritor como yo. Pero resulta que el té es chino; el whisky, escocés; y yo soy irlandés.

It is safer to beg than to take, but it is finer to take than to beg.

Besides, nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner.

Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty

Through vanity he had spared her.

I know you will laugh at me, he replied, but I really can't exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it.

People used to say of me that I was too individualistic. I must be far more of an individualist than ever I was. I must get far more out of myself than ever I got, and ask far less of the world than ever I asked. Indeed, my ruin came not from too great individualism of life, but from too little. The one disgraceful, unpardonable, and to all time contemptible action of my life was to allow myself to appeal to society for help and protection.

She is a peacock in everything but beauty.

Suddenly a dog bayed in the wood, and the dancers stopped, and going up two by two, knelt down, and kissed the man's hands. As they did so, a little smile touched his proud lips, as a bird's wing touches the water and makes it laugh. But there was disdain in it.

The only thing I have to declare is my genius.

There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses. But this was not one of them.

LA VIDA NO ES LA QUE VIVIMOS. LA VIDA ES EL HONOR Y EL RECUERDO. POR ESO MAS VALE MORIR CON EL PUEBLO VIVO, Y NO VIVIR CON EL PUEBLO MUERTO. Life is not as it seems, Life is pride and personal history. Thus it is better that one die and that the people should live, rahter than one live and the people should die. ~Lopitos

Harlem was home; was where we belonged; where we knew and were known in return; where we felt most alive; where, if need be, somebody had to take us in. Harlem defined us, claiming our consciousness and, I suspect, our unconsciousness. (Page 64)

This is our purpose: to make as meaningful as possible this life that has been bestowed upon us . . . to live in such a way that we may be proud of ourselves, to act in such a way that some part of us lives on. This is our purpose: to make as meaningful as possible this life that has been bestowed upon us . . . to live in such a way that we may be proud of ourselves, to act in such a way that some part of us lives on.

Ajax defending his honor when he fought against Troy along with Ulysses, who claimed his actions enabled the Greeks to be victorious. The chiefs side with Ulysses, and Ajax, having lost his honor as a warrior, draws his sword and proclaims: But this at least is mine, or does Ulysses claim this also for himself? This I must employ against myself; and the sword which has often reeked with Phrygian blood will now reek with its masters, lest any man but Ajax ever conquer Ajax.

No novelists any good except me. Sovietski -- yah! Nastikoff -- bah! I spit me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any good except me.

It would take more than long-stemmed roses to change my view that you're a despicable cowardy custard and a disgrace to a proud family. Your ancestors fought in the Crusades and were often mentioned in despatches, and you cringe like a salted snail at the thought of appearing as Santa Claus before an audience of charming children who wouldn't hurt a fly. It's enough to make an aunt turn her face to the wall and give up the struggle.

When Nature makes a chump like dear old Bobbie, she's proud of him, and doesn't want her handiwork disturbed. She gives him a sort of natural armour to protect him against outside interference. And that armour is shortness of memory. Shortness of memory keeps a man a chump, when, but for it, he might cease to be one.

I eluded them, therefore, with no great expenditure of physical effort, but I would be deceiving my public if I said that I was enjoying the episode. It offends one's pride when one has to leap like a lamb in Springtime at the bidding of an elderly little Gawd-help-us with whom it is impossible to reason.

Oily started, and a hot flush suffused his forehead. His professional pride was piqued. In no section of the community are class distinctions more rigid than among those who make a dishonest living by crime. The burglar looks down on the stick-up man, the stick-up man on the humbler practitioner who steals milk cans. Accuse a high-up confidence artist of petty larceny, and you bring out all the snob in him.

Nunca ame sino sombras que transforme en estatuas y no sabia yo que no vivia Mi orgullo me iba transformando en piedra, hasta que tu, Rosia, despertando desnuda, despertaste mi sangre y mis deberes.