Pride

What is the end of fame? ’tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapor.

Because you are a great lord, you believe yourself to be a great genius! … You took the trouble to be born, but no more.

Never think that you’re not good enough yourself. A man should never think that. My belief is that in life people will take you very much at your own reckoning.

With the single exception of Homer, there is no eminent writer, not even Sir Walter Scott, whom I can despise so entirely as I despise Shakespeare when I measure my mind against his.

They please, are pleas’d, they give to get esteem, Till, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem. 2

He who seeking asses found a kingdom.

With fame I become more and more stupid, which of course is a very common phenomenon.

We are all motivated by a keen desire for praise, and the better a man is, the more he is inspired to glory.

We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.

I don’t want everyone to like me; I should think less of myself if some people did.

We are all worms, but I do believe I am a glowworm.

Nothing has been purchased more dearly than the little bit of reason and sense of freedom which now constitutes our pride.

I would always rather be happy than dignified.

Afterwards I was very glad that the coolie had been killed; it put me legally in the right and it gave me a sufficient pretext for shooting the elephant. I often wondered whether any of the others grasped that I had done it solely to avoid looking a fool.

There are basically two types of people. People who accomplish things, and people who claim to have accomplished things. The first group is less crowded.

Pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. The nakedness of woman is the work of God.

But I believe that since my life began The most I’ve had is just A talent to amuse.

I am monarch of all I survey,

Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.

Virtue would not go nearly so far if vanity did not keep her company.

Humility is the most difficult of all virtues to achieve; nothing dies harder than the desire to think well of oneself.

To be apt in quotation is a splendid and dangerous gift. Splendid, because it ornaments a man’s speech with other men’s jewels; dangerous, for the same reason.

I am patient with stupidity but not with those who are proud of it.