Height Of Selfishness Quotes

It is in fact the height of selfishness to merely consume what others create and to retreat into a shell of limited goals and immediate pleasures.

We must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.

Is it not sufficient for your infernal selfishness, that while you are at peace I shall writhe in the torments of hell?

It ended. Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering; and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that one’s interest was not the chief consideration in the other’s thoughts.

Pacifism for the sake of pacifism is the height of arrogant selfishness when that belief prevents you from acting to save others from harm.

The mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering.

I believe I may assert that they were really in possession of deep and growing happiness. It ended. Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering- and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that the one's interest was not in the chief consideration in the other's thoughts.

Fathers of the fatherless sons and daughters, your spitefulness isn’t hurting the Chief Guardians. Your bitter ways are hurting your flesh and blood – your sons and daughters. Your deceptions are the dimensions of you. Your sons and daughters are a blueprint of you in so many ways, such as their height, features at every angle, physical appearance, size, and at times, the version of their character and attitude. Fathers of the fatherless sons and daughters, you failed to realize your children are a blueprint of you. However, you are all so selfish you do not see your blueprint, the blueprint that you’ve created. You are put here to help and show them the way. You are the one who’s supposed to lay out the design plan for your sons and daughters.

An unfeeling child,'' I thought to myself, 'how lightly she dismisses her old playmate's troubles. I could not have imagined her to be so selfish.'' She lifted a mouthful to her lips; then, set it down again: her cheeks flushed, and the tears gushed over them. She slipped her fork to the floor, and hastily dived under the cloth to conceal her emotion.

He had room in his heart only for two idols--his wife and himself--he doted on both, and adored one

Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering—

the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering;

And then there were our sweet stolen moments in the midst of our work—just a word, or caress, or flash of love-light; and our moments were sweeter for being stolen. For we lived on the heights, where the air was keen and sparkling, where the toil was for humanity, and where sordidness and selfishness never entered. We loved love, and our love was never smirched by anything less than the best. And this out of all remains: I did not fail.

I see now you think me a selfish wretch; but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars? whereas, if I marry Linton I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother’s power.

Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering — and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that the one's interest was not the chief consideration in the other's thoughts.

It ended. Well, we must be for ourselves in the long run; the mild and generous are only more justly selfish than the domineering - and it ended when circumstances caused each to feel that one’s interest was not the chief consideration in the other’s thoughts.

And so I make my way across the room steadily, carefully. Hands shaking, I pull the string, lifting my blinds. They rise slowly, drawing more moonlight into the room with every inch And there he is, crouched low on the roof. Same leather jacket. The hair is his, the cheekbones, the perfect nose . . . the eyes: dark and mysterious . . . full of secrets. . . . My heart flutters, body light. I reach out to touch him, thinking he might disappear, my fingers disrupted by the windowpane. On the other side, Parker lifts his hand and mouths: “Hi.” I mouth “Hi” back. He holds up a single finger, signalling me to hold on. He picks up a spiral-bound notebook and flips open the cover, turning the first page to me. I recognize his neat, block print instantly: bold, black Sharpie. I know this is unexpected . . . , I read. He flips the page. . . . and strange . . . I lift an eyebrow. . . . but please hear read me out. He flips to the next page. I know I told you I never lied . . . . . . but that was (obviously) the biggest lie of all. The truth is: I’m a liar. I lied. I lied to myself . . . . . . and to you. Parker watches as I read. Our eyes meet, and he flips the page. But only because I had to. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you, Jaden . . . . . . but it happened anyway. I clear my throat, and swallow hard, but it’s squeezed shut again, tight. And it gets worse. Not only am I a liar . . . I’m selfish. Selfish enough to want it all. And I know if I don’t have you . . . I hold my breath, waiting. . . . I don’t have anything. He turns another page, and I read: I’m not Parker . . . . . . and I’m not going to give up . . . . . . until I can prove to you . . . . . . that you are the only thing that matters. He flips to the next page. So keep sending me away . . . . . . but I’ll just keep coming back to you. Again . . . He flips to the next page. . . . and again . . . And the next: . . . and again. Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I shiver, hugging myself tightly. And if you can ever find it in your (heart) to forgive me . . . There’s a big, black “heart” symbol where the word should be. I will do everything it takes to make it up to you. He closes the notebook and tosses it beside him. It lands on the roof with a dull thwack. Then, lifting his index finger, he draws an X across his chest. Cross my heart. I stifle the happy laugh welling inside, hiding the smile as I reach for the metal latch to unlock my window. I slowly, carefully, raise the sash. A burst of fresh honeysuckles saturates the balmy, midnight air, sickeningly sweet, filling the room. I close my eyes, breathing it in, as a thousand sleepless nights melt, slipping away. I gather the lavender satin of my dress in my hand, climb through the open window, and stand tall on the roof, feeling the height, the warmth of the shingles beneath my bare feet, facing Parker. He touches the length of the scar on my forehead with his cool finger, tucks my hair behind my ear, traces the edge of my face with the back of his hand. My eyes close. “You know you’re beautiful? Even when you cry?” He smiles, holding my face in his hands, smearing the tears away with his thumbs. I breathe in, lungs shuddering. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, black eyes sincere. I swallow. “I know why you had to.” “Doesn’t make it right.” “Doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, shaking my head. The moon hangs suspended in the sky, stars twinkling overhead, as he leans down and kisses me softly, lips meeting mine, familiar—lips I imagined, dreamed about, memorized a mil ion hours ago. Then he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him, quelling every doubt and fear and uncertainty in this one, perfect moment.

I want you to know I have never loved anyone like I love you. More than Darcy loved Elizabeth or Heathcliff loved Cathy. I just don’t want to make you a widow.” “I never really understood why Brontë is considered to be a romance writer. We were required to read Wuthering Heights in high school and I always believed that her novel showcased the bleakest aspects of human nature. The story provided readers with a small yet unforgettable glimpse into the depths of human cruelty. Personally, I never considered the story romantic because the love shared between Cathy and Heathcliff was fatal, not just for themselves but for those around them. Their souls were incompatible, and they were a toxic pairing. Despite their love, passion, jealousy, and desire for connection, they were unable to recognize this fact.” “I was never a fan of Victorian romance novels.” “It was never one of my favorites. It’s often viewed as one of the great romance novels of all time, but I think it represents something darker: the fatal, selfish side of love, obsession, and abuse. To this day, I have not encountered a more accurate depiction of how love can become selfish.” “Why do you say that?” Xuan asked. “Because I think you have to love someone in the way that I love you to truly understand what love means... and to understand how wrong the story is. My soul and yours are the same in a way that Catherine and Heathcliff’s could never be. Widow or not, I will never stop loving you, Xuan. You have mesmerized me. My very soul has been entangled completely by you over these past three years. If Brontë or Austen could write the greatest love story of all time they’d write our story. And whether you marry me or not, how I feel about you will never change.

They were the same height and weight, and could wear each other’s clothes. But Lev had charm by the ton. He was unreliable and selfish, and he lived on the edge of the law, but women adored him. Grigori was honest and dependable, a hard worker and a serious thinker, and he was single. It would

Do you reflect that all those words will be branded in my memory, and eating deeper eternally after you have left me? You know you lie to say I have killed you: and, Catherine, you know that I could as soon forget you as my existence! Is it not sufficient for your infernal selfishness, that while you are at peace I shall writhe in the torments of hell?

I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break, and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter - the Eternity they have entered - where life is boundless in its duration, and love in its sympathy, and joy in its fullness. I noticed on that occasion how much selfishness there is even in a love like Mr. Linton's, when he so regretted Catherine's blessed release!

Athletes, by and large, are people who are happy to let their actions speak for them, happy to be what they do. As a result, when you talk to an athlete, as I do all the time in locker rooms, in hotel coffee shops and hallways, standing beside expensive automobiles—even if he’s paying no attention to you at all, which is very often the case—he’s never likely to feel the least bit divided, or alienated, or one ounce of existential dread. He may be thinking about a case of beer, or a barbecue, or some man-made lake in Oklahoma he wishes he was waterskiing on, or some girl or a new Chevy shortbed, or a discothèque he owns as a tax shelter, or just simply himself. But you can bet he isn’t worried one bit about you and what you’re thinking. His is a rare selfishness that means he isn’t looking around the sides of his emotions to wonder about alternatives for what he’s saying or thinking about. In fact, athletes at the height of their powers make literalness into a mystery all its own simply by becoming absorbed in what they’re doing. Years of athletic training teach this; the necessity of relinquishing doubt and ambiguity and self-inquiry in favor of a pleasant, self-championing one-dimensionality which has instant rewards in sports. You can even ruin everything with athletes simply by speaking to them in your own everyday voice, a voice possibly full of contingency and speculation. It will scare them to death by demonstrating that the world—where they often don’t do too well and sometimes fall into depressions and financial imbroglios and worse once their careers are over—is complexer than what their training has prepared them for. As a result, they much prefer their own voices and questions or the jabber of their teammates (even if it’s in Spanish). And if you are a sportswriter you have to tailor yourself to their voices and answers: “How are you going to beat this team, Stu?” Truth, of course, can still be the result—“We’re just going out and play our kind of game, Frank, since that’s what’s got us this far”—but it will be their simpler truth, not your complex one—unless, of course, you agree with them, which I often do. (Athletes, of course, are not always the dummies they’re sometimes portrayed as being, and will often talk intelligently about whatever interests them until your ears turn to cement.)

They were all fine, handsome fellows; Fritz, now twenty-four, was of moderate height, uncommonly strong, active, muscular, and high-spirited. Ernest, two years younger, was tall and slight; in disposition, mild, calm, and studious; his early faults of indolence and selfishness were almost entirely overcome. He possessed refined tastes and great intellectual power. Jack, at twenty, strongly resembled Fritz, being about his height, though more lightly built, and remarkable rather for active grace and agility than for muscular strength. Franz, a lively youth of seventeen, had some of the qualities of each of his brothers; he possessed wit and shrewdness, but not the arch drollery of Jack. All were honorable, God-fearing young men, dutiful and affectionate to their mother and myself, and warmly attached to each other. Although

the Royal Institution that he amplified the exquisite notes he had taken during the quartet of talks, made numerous illustrations, compiled an index, and bound it all together into a lovely little book. This he sent along to his new idol, Sir Humphry Davy. Later Faraday would write, “My desire to escape from trade, which I thought vicious and selfish, and to enter into the services of Science … induced me at last to take the bold and simple step of writing to Sir H. Davy.”20 Sir Humphry, having risen to magnificent heights from his own humble beginnings, had been sufficiently impressed by the ambition, intelligence, and ardor of this twenty-two-year-old blacksmith’s son (and his jewel of a book) to hire Michael Faraday as his assistant. The job paid £100 a year, along with two upstairs rooms at the institution and a supply of coal and candles.

There is no generosity, true acts of goodness, or love without clear-sightedness. I began writing searching for wisdom, questioning from whence it comes. I now repent in dust and ashes. Age-old anxiety weighed heavily on my weakened soul. Sadness and bitter awareness of the futility of living an immoral life forced rigorous self-examination, renunciation of artificial goals and idols. I sought to eradicate a ludicrous egotistic self. I am filled with inscrutable yearning to live a heighted quality of existence that the superior men in history attained by recognizing that their former life was an illusion. In the dead of night, when we speak truths that elude airing in daylight, I torched the castle that housed my solipsistic being that sought fulfillment of its selfish needs. In the second half of existence, I hope to drop attachments, the destructive desires of wanting, and begin a journey seeking intellectual fulfillment of an artistic being. I wish to live in perfect harmony by organizing all that life proffers and conducting personal affairs in a coordinated manner, which the inherent chaos of the world cannot disturb.

Right after high school, Fisher had already decided what he would do with his life. He would aim for the ultimate heights, as befitting someone of his superiority. He would become a career politician, the profession that attracted a higher percentage of fellow psychopaths than any other. And while there were a number of pathetic men and women who had chosen politics in a sincere effort to help others, on the whole, politicians were narcissistic backstabbers. Professional liars. Totally selfish and without conscience, most couldn’t care any less about others, although they could con anyone into believing they were the most compassionate people on Earth. There

By 1792, both political parties saw their opponents as mortal threats to the heritage of the Revolution. But the special mixture of idealism and vituperation also stemmed from the experiences of the founders themselves. These selfless warriors of the Revolution and sages of the Constitutional Convention had been forced to descend from their Olympian heights and adjust to a rougher world of everyday politics, where they cultivated their own interests and tried to capitalize on their former glory. In consequence, the founding fathers all appear to us in two guises: as both sublime and ordinary, selfless and selfish, heroic and humdrum. After the tenuous unity of 1776 and 1787, they had become wildly competitive and sometimes jealous of one another. It is no accident that our most scathing portraits of them come from their own pens.

It is in fact the height of selfishness to merely consume what others create and to retreat into a shell of limited goals and immediate pleasures. Alienating

Maybe you go to mass every day. But if you live for your own selfish benefit, and have no concern for the difficulties of your neighbour, as if they did not touch you at all, then all you have done is take part in the sacrament in a merely outward way. The sacrifice of the mass, in a spiritual sense, means that we become one body with the Body of Christ, living members of His Church. If your love for things is guided by Christ, if you think all your possessions to be things you hold in trust for the good of all, if you take upon yourself the difficulties and sufferings of your neighbour as if they were your own, then you may take part in mass very fruitfully, because now you take part in a spiritual way… But to worship Christ with nothing more than outward ceremonies, as if such worship were the height of spirituality, while all the time you are puffed up with self-importance, and condemn other people, and think yourself secure because you live and die in your outward worship: well, the very ordinances of worship that were meant to draw you to Christ will withdraw you from Him. Your religion is a rebellion against the spirit of the Gospel, a falling back into the superstitions and rituals of Judaism ... The apostle Paul, the foremost defender of spiritual religion, never ceased trying to get the Jews to give up their confidence in outward works and rituals, and to lead them to spiritual realities. Yet I feel that the great majority of Christians have fallen back again into that sickness.

My back is pressed against the side of the garage, Jake's body pinning me to the wood. He looks down at my lips and back to my eyes. The rain is soaking us as we stare at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Jake grabs my chin in his hands, pointing my face up to his, then coldly whispers, 'I suppose you think it's selfish when I rip this dress from your body and fuck you right here in the rain.' I can't say another word. Jake's mouth finds mine and we savagely kiss each other. Our lips press hard into each other as the passion and love I have for this man comes spilling out of me. True to his word, Jake grabs ahold of my dress where the millions of buttons trail down my back and yanks. He yanks and then yanks again. The delicate lace and satin tears away from my body and falls to shreds, billowing at my feet when he says, 'You've ruined me.' He kisses me hard, bordering on painful, as he pours his torn heart out to me. 'I'm a complete fucking mess without you.

The world is a place where, when push comes to shove, nearly everyone shoves. This maxim can easily be put to the test by riding a crowded subway train during the height of the morning rush hour.

My grandmother was a girl when they planted those trees. None of the adults there that day lived to see them grow to full height. People were wiser back then, and less selfish. The understood that they were part of a line, not the beginning, middle, and end of it.

Pages might be written to prove, from this illustrious example, the defects of human excellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high courtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence beneath the chilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who was great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found wanting when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior to policy.

Eros, honoured without reservation and obeyed unconditionally, becomes a demon. And this is just how he claims to be honoured and obeyed. Divinely indifferent to our selfishness, he is also demoniacally rebellious to every claim of God or Man that would oppose him. Hence as the poet says: People in love cannot be moved by kindness, And opposition makes them feel like martyrs. Martyrs is exactly right. Years ago when I wrote about medieval love-poetry and described its strange, half makebelieve, "religion of love", I was blind enough to treat this as an almost purely literary phenomenon. I know better now. Eros by his nature invites it. Of all loves he is, at his height, most god-like; therefore most prone to demand our worship. Of himself he always tends to turn "being in love" into a sort of religion.

REVERSAL The reversal to mastery is to deny its existence or its importance, and therefore the need to strive for it in any way. But such a reversal can only lead to feelings of powerlessness and disappointment. This reversal leads to enslavement to what we shall call the false self. Your false self is the accumulation of all the voices you have internalized from other people—parents and friends who want you to conform to their ideas of what you should be like and what you should do, as well as societal pressures to adhere to certain values that can easily seduce you. It also includes the voice of your own ego, which constantly tries to protect you from unflattering truths. This self talks to you in clear words, and when it comes to mastery, it says things like, “Mastery is for the geniuses, the exceptionally talented, the freaks of nature. I was simply not born that way.” Or it says, “Mastery is ugly and immoral. It is for those who are ambitious and egotistical. Better to accept my lot in life and to work to help other people instead of enriching myself.” Or it might say, “Success is all luck. Those we call Masters are only people who were at the right place at the right time. I could easily be in their place if I had a lucky break.” Or it might also say, “To work for so long at something that requires so much pain and effort, why bother? Better to enjoy my short life and do what I can to get by.” As you must know by now, these voices do not speak the truth. Mastery is not a question of genetics or luck, but of following your natural inclinations and the deep desire that stirs you from within. Everyone has such inclinations. This desire within you is not motivated by egotism or sheer ambition for power, both of which are emotions that get in the way of mastery. It is instead a deep expression of something natural, something that marked you at birth as unique. In following your inclinations and moving toward mastery, you make a great contribution to society, enriching it with discoveries and insights, and making the most of the diversity in nature and among human society. It is in fact the height of selfishness to merely consume what others create and to retreat into a shell of limited goals and immediate pleasures. Alienating yourself from your inclinations can only lead to pain and disappointment in the long run, and a sense that you have wasted something unique. This pain will beexpressed in bitterness and envy, and you will not recognize the true source of your depression.

I am saying is to dwell on the past and use it as a crutch to stop yourself moving forward is meaningless. It is the very height of selfish self-indulgence.

To him it was wild and extravagant, a life that was panoplied and trampling compared with his own: it seemed to him that in their schooldays they had won more than he would ever win during the whole of his life. At first ill-treated, they had lived to be oppressors whose savagest desire could be gratified at once, which was surely the height of ambition. As the picture grew in his mind, he ornamented it with little marginal additions, until in the end the thing was as unreal as a highly-coloured picture of an ancient battle, but he had no inkling of its untruth, and he looked on them with curious respect. The pimply Eddy; Christopher, dark and unshaven as a boxer; the selfish and smiling Patrick, and even Tony Braithwaite—all took on a picturesqueness in his eyes, as if they were veterans of an old war.

I don’t love you the way my brother does, tesoro,” he said, shifting slightly in our confined space, brushing his groin against me in a way that had my breath catching. “He is consumed by you. His dark heart sees the temptations of your beauty and your goodness, and he wants to gorge himself on them. He wants to keep you in his orbit tied so close to him that your sun will only shine for him. It’s a selfish and overwhelming love.” His words should have evoked horror and disillusion. The kind of affection he spoke of was acidic, eating away at the soft linings and inner workings of a body until it was used up and wasted away. “I love you as the dark loves the stars. I want only to hold you, protect you, and elevate you to the greatest heights of your ambitions. I could care for you, Cosi, love you in a way that was healthy if you’d let me,” he continued.

The sooner we realize the fact that people outside there are toxic who envy you for your style, your attitude, your heights; humans would have stopped living just to gain attention.

Worst of all carnivores are the humans, There is no end to their appetite. Animals no longer partake once they are full, While human greed knows no sane height.

The Carnivore (Sonnet 1406) Be a gentle giant like the elephant, not an opportunistic carnivore like the wolf. The elephant doesn't harm anyone to prove its greatness, while the wolf doesn't think twice to devour another wolf. Greatness unfolds through gentleness, Illumination unfolds through expansion. Coldness is the mark of cowardly animal, Cruelty is cover for beastly degeneration. Worst of all carnivores are the humans, There is no end to their appetite. Animals no longer partake once they are full, While human greed knows no sane height. More clothes, more cars, more cash, Just how much will you consider enough! Till you put a cork on cocky abundance, Not felicity but disparity wreaks havoc. Savagest carnivore of all is the human. Uncorked materialism is new cannibalism.

You need to apologize to her,” Grace said quietly, gaining his attention. “Spend time with her, regardless of how you feel. Your feelings no longer matter, in fact. To ignore her is the height of selfishness. If what she believes is true, that you avoid her because of your grief, then you must find a way to move past that grief. If you cannot, go let her live with relatives.

These selfless warriors of the Revolution and sages of the Constitutional Convention had been forced to descend from their Olympian heights and adjust to a rougher world of everyday politics, where they cultivated their own interests and tried to capitalize on their former glory. In consequence, the founding fathers all appear to us in two guises: as both sublime and ordinary, selfless and selfish, heroic and humdrum

He would aim for the ultimate heights, as befitting someone of his superiority. He would become a career politician, the profession that attracted a higher percentage of fellow psychopaths than any other. And while there were a number of pathetic men and women who had chosen politics in a sincere effort to help others, on the whole, politicians were narcissistic backstabbers. Professional liars. Totally selfish and without conscience, most couldn’t care any less about others, although they could con anyone into believing they were the most compassionate people on Earth.

Yes, and I totally forgot about the ottoman when we went to Iris's apartment. She didn't have the room for it, so she must've brought it here." Aunt Barb shook her head when they reached the ottoman. "An ottoman is a rich-people thing, when you think about it. It requires room. Space. I'm not rich by any means, but I have room for an ottoman. I assumed she did too." Aunt Barb sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I've been so insensitive, living in my own little world." "That's not true. You didn't know." "Maybe I didn't want to know, or maybe I should have known. Isn't that the height of insensitivity? That you just didn't know, because you couldn't imagine that people lived a different life from the one you do?" Aunt Bard kept shaking her head. "Isn't that the very definition of insensitivity? Of selfishness?

When you connect with your inner strength and challenge your limits, you can take the reins of your life in a way that feels truly empowering. This means recognizing and embracing your own capabilities, pushing beyond your comfort zone, and discovering the heights you can reach. By making choices that prioritize your security, purpose, and well-being, you're not just safeguarding your future—you're also nurturing the most important aspects of yourself. To truly tap into your inner power, it is important to seek out opportunities for personal growth. This could involve pursuing further education to expand your knowledge and skills or honing new talents that you have always wanted to explore. By investing in your own development, you are equipping yourself with the tools and knowledge needed to navigate the challenges that lie ahead. Additionally, surrounding yourself with a supportive network of friends and mentors is crucial. These individuals will uplift and encourage you, providing guidance and support when you need it most. They can offer different perspectives, share their own experiences, and help you navigate obstacles that may arise on your journey towards personal growth and success. It is important to remember that prioritizing your own needs and aspirations is not selfish, but rather a necessary step towards creating a fulfilling and meaningful life. By taking care of yourself and embracing the power within you, you are better equipped to positively impact those around you. When you prioritize your own well-being, you become a source of inspiration for others and can contribute to a more harmonious and supportive community. So, embrace the power within you and step into the limitless possibilities that lie ahead. Take charge of your life, challenge yourself, and never stop seeking personal growth. By doing so, you will not only achieve your own goals and aspirations, but also inspire others to do the same. Embrace your inner strength and watch as you transform your life into one that is truly empowering and meaningful.