Reputation Is What Others Think Of You Quotes

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Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
John Wooden
Reputation is what others think of us; character is what God knows of us. When you have spent what feels like eternity trying to repair a few moments of time that destroyed the view others once had of you then you must ask yourself if you have the problem or is it really them? God doesn’t make us try so hard, only enemies do.
Shannon L. Alder
Be more concerned with your character than with your reputation, for your character is what you are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
Dale Carnegie
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
Erick S. Gray
All those people who are chained here thinking that their reputations matter and this little shit matters are so freaking shortsighted. Dude, what matters is that you're happy. What matters is your future. What matters is that we get out of here in one piece. What matters is finding the truth of our own lives, not caring about what other people think is the truth of us.
A.S. King (Ask the Passengers)
Worry more about your character than your reputation. Character is what you are, reputation merely what others think you are.
John Wooden
Worry more about your conscience than your reputation. Because your conscience is what you are, your reputation is what others think of you. And what others think of you is their problem.
Charlie Chaplin
Your reputation is what others think of you; your character is what you truly are. Reputations can be manipulated; character can only be developed and maintained.
Bohdi Sanders (Men of the Code: Living as a Superior Man)
You cannot really shame a man who sincerely does not care what others think of him.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana
What you post online speaks VOLUME about who you really are. POST with intention. REPOST with caution.
Germany Kent
Don't promote negativity online and expect people to treat you with positivity in person.
Germany Kent
Mud Slinging is so much fun,when you do it to others. But remember the day someone else does the same to you,youll realise how bad the mud in your mouth tastes. Think twice before you go around ruining the reputation of others. Because what goes around comes around for sure.
Rachitha Cabral
The names of virtues, with their precepts, were: 1. Temperance. Eat not do dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. Industry. Lose no time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. Moderation. Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloths, or habitation. 11. Tranquillity. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. Chastity. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation. 13. Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Benjamin Franklin (The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin)
Reputation is what others think of us; character is what we know of us. When you spend a lot of energy trying to repair a few moments of time that destroyed the view others once had of you, or a judgment someone made of you, true or not, then you must ask yourself, why take on the problem when it is really them?
Tambré Bryant
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are".
John Wooden
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are. —John Wooden
Aleatha Romig (Convicted (Consequences, #3))
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.” —JOHN WOODEN
Anthony Robbins (Awaken the Giant Within: How to Take Immediate Control of Your Mental, Emotional, Physical and Financial Destiny!)
We are often deterred, not by what others think or would think, but by what we think they think or would think.
Mokokoma Mokhonoana
Integrity is what you do behind closed doors or when you think nobody is watching. Integrity is the true essence of who you are, your beliefs and your values. Reputation is the public perception of who you are. It is how others view your integrity or strong moral principles.
Erik Qualman (What Happens in Vegas Stays on YouTube: PRIVACY is DEAD. The NEW rules for business, personal, and family reputation.)
Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you were wrong? Maybe, you only saw your point of view and you never once put yourself in the other person's shoes. Maybe, walking away from the senseless drama and spiteful criticism isn't the best thing to do. Maybe, for just once in your life you could wear another person's confusion, pain or misunderstanding. Maybe, your future doesn't require explaining yourself or offering an explanation for your indifference, but your character and reputation does. What if one day you find out that you didn't have all the information you thought you did? What if you find out that your presence was needed for healing? What if you only knew half of it and the other half was just your fear and anger translating everything you experienced? What if you were wrong? What if the same thing happened to you?
Shannon L. Alder
The Fire Bug flared up at that. “You want to know what bugs me?” it said indignantly. “Nobodaddy’s friendly about fire. Oh, it’s fine in its place, people say, it makes a nice glow in a room, but keep an eye on it in case it gets out of control, and always put it out before you leave. Never mind how much it’s needed; a few forests burned by wildfires, the occasional volcanic eruption, and there goes our reputation. Water, on the other hand!—hah!—there’s no limit to the praise Water gets. Floods, rains, burst pipes, they make no difference. Water is everyone’s favorite. And when they call it the Fountain of Life!—bah!—well, that just bugs me to bits.” The Fire Bug dissolved briefly into a little cloud of angry, buzzing sparks, then came together again. “Fountain of Life, indeed,” it hissed. “What an idea. Life is not a drip. Life is a flame. What do you imagine the sun is made of? Raindrops? I don’t think so. Life is not wet, young man. Life burns.
Salman Rushdie (Luka and the Fire of Life (Khalifa Brothers, #2))
Society will question your reputation, but it will believe your defamation without question.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
Be more concerned with your character than with your reputation, because your character is what you really are while your reputation is merely what others think you are.”1
Rory Noland (The Heart of the Artist: A Character-Building Guide for You and Your Ministry Team)
Reputation is what others think you are; character is what God knows you are.
Anonymous (The Daily Walk Bible-NLT)
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (Coach Wooden and Me: Our 50-Year Friendship On and Off the Court)
Coach Wooden nailed it: “Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
Charlie Houpert (Charisma on Command: Inspire, Impress, and Energize Everyone You Meet)
Gustavo Tiberius speaking." “It’s so weird you do that, man,” Casey said, sounding amused. “Every time I call.” “It’s polite,” Gus said. “Just because you kids these days don’t have proper phone etiquette.” “Oh boy, there’s the Grumpy Gus I know. You miss me?” Gus was well aware the others could hear the conversation loud and clear. He was also aware he had a reputation to maintain. “Hadn’t really thought about it.” “Really.” “Yes.” “Gus.” “Casey.” “I miss you.” “I miss you too,” Gus mumbled into the phone, blushing fiercely. “Yeah? How much?” Gus was in hell. “A lot,” he said truthfully. “There have been allegations made against my person of pining and moping. False allegations, mind you, but allegations nonetheless.” “I know what you mean,” Casey said. “The guys were saying the same thing about me.” Gus smiled. “How embarrassing for you.” “Completely. You have no idea.” “They’re going to get you packed up this week?” “Ah, yeah. Sure. Something like that.” “Casey.” “Yes, Gustavo.” “You’re being cagey.” “I have no idea what you mean. Hey, that’s a nice Hawaiian shirt you’ve got on. Pink? I don’t think I’ve seen you in that color before.” Gus shrugged. “Pastor Tommy had a shitload of them. I think I could wear one every day for the rest of the year and not repeat. I think he may have had a bit of a….” Gus trailed off when his hand started shaking. Then, “How did you know what I was wearing?” There was a knock on the window to the Emporium. Gus looked up. Standing on the sidewalk was Casey. He was wearing bright green skinny jeans and a white and red shirt that proclaimed him to be a member of the 1987 Pasadena Bulldogs Women’s Softball team. He looked ridiculous. And like the greatest thing Gus had ever seen. Casey wiggled his eyebrows at Gus. “Hey, man.” “Hi,” Gus croaked. “Come over here, but stay on the phone, okay?” Gus didn’t even argue, unable to take his eyes off Casey. He hadn’t expected him for another week, but here he was on a pretty Saturday afternoon, standing outside the Emporium like it was no big deal. Gus went to the window, and Casey smiled that lazy smile. He said, “Hi.” Gus said, “Hi.” “So, I’ve spent the last two days driving back,” Casey said. “Tried to make it a surprise, you know?” “I’m very surprised,” Gus managed to say, about ten seconds away from busting through the glass just so he could hug Casey close. The smile widened. “Good. I’ve had some time to think about things, man. About a lot of things. And I came to this realization as I drove past Weed, California. Gus. It was called Weed, California. It was a sign.” Gus didn’t even try to stop the eye roll. “Oh my god.” “Right? Kismet. Because right when I entered Weed, California, I was thinking about you and it hit me. Gus, it hit me.” “What did?” Casey put his hand up against the glass. Gus did the same on his side. “Hey, Gus?” “Yeah?” “I’m going to ask you a question, okay?” Gustavo’s throat felt very dry. “Okay.” “What was the Oscar winner for Best Song in 1984?” Automatically, Gus answered, “Stevie Wonder for the movie The Woman in Red. The song was ‘I Just Called to Say I Love You.’” It was fine, of course. Because he knew answers to all those things. He didn’t know why Casey wanted to— And then he could barely breathe. Casey’s smile wobbled a little bit. “Okay?” Gus blinked the burn away. He nodded as best he could. And Casey said, “Yeah, man. I love you too.” Gus didn’t even care that he dropped his phone then. All that mattered was getting as close to Casey as humanely possible. He threw open the door to the Emporium and suddenly found himself with an armful of hipster. Casey laughed wetly into his neck and Gus just held on as hard as he could. He thought that it was possible that he might never be in a position to let go. For some reason, that didn’t bother him in the slightest.
T.J. Klune (How to Be a Normal Person (How to Be, #1))
What anyone thinks of you will never matter more than what God says of you. Reputation is who other people think you are but character is who God knows you are… and guess what…He sees the depths of your heart and loves you the same. Why? Because where sin abounds, grace abounds so much more.”-Cambria Joy
Cambria Joy
As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with flirtations, a kiss, an embrace, an off-color joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other one, which is much purer, deeper and finer. No one knows Anne’s better side, and that’s why most people can’t stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that everyone’s had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I’m what a romantic movie is to a profound thinker—a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either. I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn’t I admit it when I know it’s true? My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne—to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why. I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the “lighthearted” Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the “deeper” Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeared. So the nice Anne is never seen in company. She’s never made a single appearance, though she almost always takes the stage when I’m alone. I know exactly how I’d like to be, how I am … on the inside. But unfortunately I’m only like that with myself. And perhaps that’s why—no, I’m sure that’s the reason why—I think of myself as happy on the inside and other people think I’m happy on the outside. I’m guided by the pure Anne within, but on the outside I’m nothing but a frolicsome little goat tugging at its tether. As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn’t give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way. If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I’m always up against a more powerful enemy. A voice within me is sobbing, “You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.” Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up anymore, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if … if only there were no other people in the world. Yours, Anne M. Frank ANNE’S DIARY ENDS HERE.
Anne Frank (The Diary of a Young Girl)
People try to get away from it all—to the country, to the beach, to the mountains. You always wish that you could too. Which is idiotic: you can get away from it anytime you like. By going within. Nowhere you can go is more peaceful—more free of interruptions—than your own soul. Especially if you have other things to rely on. An instant’s recollection and there it is: complete tranquillity. And by tranquillity I mean a kind of harmony. So keep getting away from it all—like that. Renew yourself. But keep it brief and basic. A quick visit should be enough to ward off all < . . . > and send you back ready to face what awaits you. What’s there to complain about? People’s misbehavior? But take into consideration: • that rational beings exist for one another; • that doing what’s right sometimes requires patience; • that no one does the wrong thing deliberately; • and the number of people who have feuded and envied and hated and fought and died and been buried. . . . and keep your mouth shut. Or are you complaining about the things the world assigns you? But consider the two options: Providence or atoms. And all the arguments for seeing the world as a city. Or is it your body? Keep in mind that when the mind detaches itself and realizes its own nature, it no longer has anything to do with ordinary life—the rough and the smooth, either one. And remember all you’ve been taught—and accepted—about pain and pleasure. Or is it your reputation that’s bothering you? But look at how soon we’re all forgotten. The abyss of endless time that swallows it all. The emptiness of all those applauding hands. The people who praise us—how capricious they are, how arbitrary. And the tiny region in which it all takes place. The whole earth a point in space—and most of it uninhabited. How many people there will be to admire you, and who they are. So keep this refuge in mind: the back roads of your self. Above all, no strain and no stress. Be straightforward. Look at things like a man, like a human being, like a citizen, like a mortal. And among the things you turn to, these two: i. That things have no hold on the soul. They stand there unmoving, outside it. Disturbance comes only from within—from our own perceptions. ii. That everything you see will soon alter and cease to exist. Think of how many changes you’ve already seen. “The world is nothing but change. Our life is only perception.
Marcus Aurelius (Meditations)
Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. Order: Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; (i.e., waste nothing). Industry: Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. Moderation: Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation. Tranquility: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. Chastity: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.
Walter Isaacson (Benjamin Franklin: An American Life)
Solving large, difficult problems may earn you a reputation for skillful negotiation, but Sun Tzu asserts that this supposed achievement is actually a form of failure, and having true wisdom means preventing difficult problems from arising in the first place. Ironically, this highest form of efficacy will often go unnoticed by many people, since the leader’s work seems so effortless and subtle. This foresight may not earn you a great reputation, but Sun Tzu also believed that bravery and greatness involve shunning what other people think of you, both praise and criticism, and doing what you believe is the right thing. A brave person forgoes his or her own ego and well-being, and acts with neither fear of punishment nor expectation of reward.
Sun Tzu (The Art of War)
You and your husband have, I think, been very fortunate to know so little, by experience, in your own case or in that of your friends, of the wicked recklessness with which people repeat things to the disadvantage of others, without a thought as to whether they have grounds for asserting what they say. I have met with a good deal of utter misrepresentation of that kind. And another result of my experience is the conviction that the opinion of "people" in general is absolutely worthless as a test of right and wrong. The only two tests I now apply to such a question as the having some particular girl-friend as a guest are, first, my own conscience, to settle whether I feel it to be entirely innocent and right, in the sight of God; secondly, the parents of my friend, to settle whether I have their full approval for what I do. You need not be shocked at my being spoken against. Anybody, who is spoken about at all, is sure to be spoken against by somebody: and any action, however innocent in itself, is liable, and not at all unlikely, to be blamed by somebody. If you limit your actions in life to things that nobody can possibly find fault with, you will not do much
Lewis Carroll (The Letters of Lewis Carroll: 2 Vols.)
Methinks, Oh! vain ill-judging Book, I see thee cast a wishful look, Where reputations won and lost are In famous row called Paternoster. Incensed to find your precious olio Buried in unexplored port-folio, You scorn the prudent lock and key, And pant well bound and gilt to see Your Volume in the window set Of Stockdale, Hookham, or Debrett. Go then, and pass that dangerous bourn Whence never Book can back return: And when you find, condemned, despised, Neglected, blamed, and criticised, Abuse from All who read you fall, (If haply you be read at all Sorely will you your folly sigh at, And wish for me, and home, and quiet. Assuming now a conjuror’s office, I Thus on your future Fortune prophesy: — Soon as your novelty is o’er, And you are young and new no more, In some dark dirty corner thrown, Mouldy with damps, with cobwebs strown, Your leaves shall be the Book-worm’s prey; Or sent to Chandler–Shop away, And doomed to suffer public scandal, Shall line the trunk, or wrap the candle! But should you meet with approbation, And some one find an inclination To ask, by natural transition Respecting me and my condition; That I am one, the enquirer teach, Nor very poor, nor very rich; Of passions strong, of hasty nature, Of graceless form and dwarfish stature; By few approved, and few approving; Extreme in hating and in loving; Abhorring all whom I dislike, Adoring who my fancy strike; In forming judgements never long, And for the most part judging wrong; In friendship firm, but still believing Others are treacherous and deceiving, And thinking in the present aera That Friendship is a pure chimaera: More passionate no creature living, Proud, obstinate, and unforgiving, But yet for those who kindness show, Ready through fire and smoke to go. Again, should it be asked your page, ‘Pray, what may be the author’s age?’ Your faults, no doubt, will make it clear, I scarce have seen my twentieth year, Which passed, kind Reader, on my word, While England’s Throne held George the Third. Now then your venturous course pursue: Go, my delight! Dear Book, adieu!
Matthew Gregory Lewis (The Monk)
And so it is both strange and remarkable to me that-among some dozens of books I have authored-precisely this one, which I had intended to be published anonymously so that it could never build up any reputation on the part of the author, did become a success. Again and again I therefore admonish my students both in Europe and in America: "Don't aim at success-the more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one's dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one's surrender to a person other than oneself. Happiness must happen, and the same holds for success: you have to let it happen by not caring about it. I want you to listen to what your conscience commands you to do and go on to carry it out to the best of your knowledge. Then you will live to see that in the long run-in the long run, I say!-success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think of it.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man's Search for Meaning)
1. TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. ORDER. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. MODERATION. Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation. 11. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. CHASTITY. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation. 13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Benjamin Franklin (The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin)
What advice would you give to a smart, driven college student about to enter the “real world”? What advice should they ignore? [My advice:] Pursue every project, idea, or industry that genuinely lights you up, regardless of how unrelated each idea is, or how unrealistic a long-term career in that field might now seem. You’ll connect the dots later. Work your fucking ass off and develop a reputation for going above and beyond in all situations. Do whatever it takes to earn enough money, so that you can go all in on experiences or learning opportunities that put you in close proximity to people you admire, because proximity is power. Show up in every moment like you’re meant to be there, because your energy precedes anything you could possibly say. Ignore the advice to specialize in one thing, unless you’re certain that’s how you want to roll. Ignore giving a shit about what other people think about your career choices or what you do for a living—especially if what you do for a living funds your career choices. Ignore the impulse to dial down your enthusiasm for fear it’ll be perceived as unprofessional. And especially for women, ignore societal and familial pressures to get married and have kids.
Timothy Ferriss (Tribe of Mentors: Short Life Advice from the Best in the World)
Moral philosophers say things like, ‘What is actually wrong with cannibalism?’ There are two ways of responding to that: one is to shrink back in horror and say, ‘Cannibalism! Cannibalism! We can’t talk about cannibalism!’ The other is to say, ‘Well, actually, what is wrong with cannibalism?’ Then you work it out and you tease it out and you decide yes, actually, cannibalism is wrong, but for the following reasons. So I’d like to think that my moral values at least partly come from reasoning. Trying to suppress the gut reaction as much as possible. ["Is Richard Dawkins destroying his reputation?", The Guardian, 9 June 2015]
Richard Dawkins
I went to interview a man with a high reputation for wisdom, because I felt that here if anywhere I should succeed in disproving the oracle and pointing out to my divine authority 'You said that I was the wisest of men, but here is a man who is wiser than I am.' Well, I gave a thorough examination to this person... and in conversation with him I formed the impression that although in many people's opinion, and especially in his own, he appeared to be wise, in fact he was not. Then when I began to try to show him that he only thought he was wise and was not really so, my efforts were resented both by him and by many of the other people present. However, I reflected as I walked away: 'Well, I am certainly wiser than this man. It is only too likely that neither of us has any knowledge to boast of; but he thinks that he knows something which he does not know, whereas I am quite conscious of my ignorance. At any rate it seems that I am wiser than he is to this small extent, that I do not think that I know what I do not know... [A]s I pursued my investigation at the god's command,... my honest impression was... that the people with the greatest reputations were almost entirely deficient, while others who were supposed to be their inferiors were much better qualified in practical intelligence.
Socrates (Apology, Crito and Phaedo of Socrates.)
The problem, Augustine came to believe, is that if you think you can organize your own salvation you are magnifying the very sin that keeps you from it. To believe that you can be captain of your own life is to suffer the sin of pride. What is pride? These days the word “pride” has positive connotations. It means feeling good about yourself and the things associated with you. When we use it negatively, we think of the arrogant person, someone who is puffed up and egotistical, boasting and strutting about. But that is not really the core of pride. That is just one way the disease of pride presents itself. By another definition, pride is building your happiness around your accomplishments, using your work as the measure of your worth. It is believing that you can arrive at fulfillment on your own, driven by your own individual efforts. Pride can come in bloated form. This is the puffed-up Donald Trump style of pride. This person wants people to see visible proof of his superiority. He wants to be on the VIP list. In conversation, he boasts, he brags. He needs to see his superiority reflected in other people’s eyes. He believes that this feeling of superiority will eventually bring him peace. That version is familiar. But there are other proud people who have low self-esteem. They feel they haven’t lived up to their potential. They feel unworthy. They want to hide and disappear, to fade into the background and nurse their own hurts. We don’t associate them with pride, but they are still, at root, suffering from the same disease. They are still yoking happiness to accomplishment; it’s just that they are giving themselves a D– rather than an A+. They tend to be just as solipsistic, and in their own way as self-centered, only in a self-pitying and isolating way rather than in an assertive and bragging way. One key paradox of pride is that it often combines extreme self-confidence with extreme anxiety. The proud person often appears self-sufficient and egotistical but is really touchy and unstable. The proud person tries to establish self-worth by winning a great reputation, but of course this makes him utterly dependent on the gossipy and unstable crowd for his own identity. The proud person is competitive. But there are always other people who might do better. The most ruthlessly competitive person in the contest sets the standard that all else must meet or get left behind. Everybody else has to be just as monomaniacally driven to success. One can never be secure. As Dante put it, the “ardor to outshine / Burned in my bosom with a kind of rage.” Hungry for exaltation, the proud person has a tendency to make himself ridiculous. Proud people have an amazing tendency to turn themselves into buffoons, with a comb-over that fools nobody, with golden bathroom fixtures that impress nobody, with name-dropping stories that inspire nobody. Every proud man, Augustine writes, “heeds himself, and he who pleases himself seems great to himself. But he who pleases himself pleases a fool, for he himself is a fool when he is pleasing himself.”16 Pride, the minister and writer Tim Keller has observed, is unstable because other people are absentmindedly or intentionally treating the proud man’s ego with less reverence than he thinks it deserves. He continually finds that his feelings are hurt. He is perpetually putting up a front. The self-cultivator spends more energy trying to display the fact that he is happy—posting highlight reel Facebook photos and all the rest—than he does actually being happy. Augustine suddenly came to realize that the solution to his problem would come only after a transformation more fundamental than any he had previously entertained, a renunciation of the very idea that he could be the source of his own solution.
David Brooks (The Road to Character)
Are people really gonna buy it if we never touch each other in public?” Peter asks, looking skeptical. “I don’t think relationships are just about physicality. There are ways to show you care about someone, not just using your lips.” Peter’s smiling, and he looks like he’s about to crack a joke, so I swiftly add, “Or any other body part.” He groans. “You’ve gotta give me something here, Lara Jean. I have a reputation to uphold. None of my friends will believe I suddenly turned into a monk to date you. How about at least a hand in your back jean pocket? Trust me, it’ll be strictly professional.” I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that he cares way too much what people think about him. I just nod and write down, Peter is allowed to put a hand in Lara Jean’s back jean pocket. “But no more kissing,” I say, keeping my head down so he can’t see me blush. “You’re the one who started it,” he reminds me. “And also, I don’t have any STDs, so you can get that out of your head.” “I don’t think you have any STDs.” I look back up at him. “The thing is…I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’ve never been on a real date before, or held hands walking down the hallway. This is all new for me, so I’m sorry about the forehead thing this morning. I just…wish all of these firsts were happening for real and not with you.” Peter seems to be thinking this over. He says, “Huh. Okay. Let’s just save some stuff, then.” “Yeah?” “Sure. We’ll have some stuff for you to do when it’s the real thing and not for show.” I’m touched. Who knew Peter could be so thoughtful and generous? “Like, I won’t pay for stuff. I’ll save that for a guy who really likes you.” My smile fades. “I wasn’t expecting you to pay for anything!” Peter’s on a roll. “And I won’t walk you to class or buy you flowers.” “I get the picture.” It seems to me like Peter’s less concerned about me and more concerned about his wallet. He sure is cheap.
Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #1))
Lord Langford," she acknowledged, looking right down her nose at the man. "Penelope," the older man said, unable to keep the surprise from his gaze. "It's Lady Bourne to you." The words were cool and cutting, and Michael was sure she'd never been more beautiful. "Come to think of it, it was always lady to you. And you never referred to me as such." The older man's gaze narrowed in irritation, and Michael had an intense urge to put a fist into the viscount's face for the look. It was not necessary. His wife was more than able to care for herself. "You don't like that, I see. Well, let me tell what I don't like. I don't like insolence. And I don't like cruelty. And I most definitely don't like you. It is time you and I have it out, Langford, because while you might have stolen my husband's lands and funds and reputation, and you might have been a truly horrendous father to my friend, I absolutely refuse to have you take another thing from me, you despicable old man.
Sarah MacLean (A Rogue by Any Other Name (The Rules of Scoundrels, #1))
Through the fall, the president’s anger seemed difficult to contain. He threatened North Korea with “fire and fury,” then followed up with a threat to “totally destroy” the country. When neo-Nazis and white supremacists held a rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, and one of them killed a protester and injured a score of others, he made a brutally offensive statement condemning violence “on many sides … on many sides”—as if there was moral equivalence between those who were fomenting racial hatred and violence and those who were opposing it. He retweeted anti-Muslim propaganda that had been posted by a convicted criminal leader of a British far-right organization. Then as now, the president’s heedless bullying and intolerance of variance—intolerance of any perception not his own—has been nurturing a strain of insanity in public dialogue that has been long in development, a pathology that became only more virulent when it migrated to the internet. A person such as the president can on impulse and with minimal effort inject any sort of falsehood into public conversation through digital media and call his own lie a correction of “fake news.” There are so many news outlets now, and the competition for clicks is so intense, that any sufficiently outrageous statement made online by anyone with even the faintest patina of authority, and sometimes even without it, will be talked about, shared, and reported on, regardless of whether it has a basis in fact. How do you progress as a culture if you set out to destroy any common agreement as to what constitutes a fact? You can’t have conversations. You can’t have debates. You can’t come to conclusions. At the same time, calling out the transgressor has a way of giving more oxygen to the lie. Now it’s a news story, and the lie is being mentioned not just in some website that publishes unattributable gossip but in every reputable newspaper in the country. I have not been looking to start a personal fight with the president. When somebody insults your wife, your instinctive reaction is to want to lash out in response. When you are the acting director, or deputy director, of the FBI, and the person doing the insulting is the chief executive of the United States, your options have guardrails. I read the president’s tweets, but I had an organization to run. A country to help protect. I had to remain independent, neutral, professional, positive, on target. I had to compartmentalize my emotions. Crises taught me how to compartmentalize. Example: the Boston Marathon bombing—watching the video evidence, reviewing videos again and again of people dying, people being mutilated and maimed. I had the primal human response that anyone would have. But I know how to build walls around that response and had to build them then in order to stay focused on finding the bombers. Compared to experiences like that one, getting tweeted about by Donald Trump does not count as a crisis. I do not even know how to think about the fact that the person with time on his hands to tweet about me and my wife is the president of the United States.
Andrew G. McCabe (The Threat: How the FBI Protects America in the Age of Terror and Trump)
The word character comes from the Ancient Greek, 'kharakter,' meaning they mark that is left on a coin during its manufacture. Character is also the mark left on you by life, and the mark we leave on life. It's the impact you make when you're here, the trace you leave once you've gone. Character rises out of our values, our purpose, the standards we set ourselves, our sacrifice and commitment, and the decisions we make under pressure, but it is primarily defined by the contribution we make, the responsibility we take, the leadership we show. [...] John Wooden said, 'Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.' Character is forged by the way we respond to the challenges of life and business, by the way we lead our life and teams. If we value life, life values us. If we devalue it, we dishonour ourselves and our one chance at living. THIS is our time. Leadership is surely the example we set. The way we lead our own life is what makes us a leader.
James Kerr (Legacy: What the All Blacks Can Teach Us About the Business of Life)
You’re the only person who doesn’t see the advantage in such a match.” “That’s because I don’t believe in marriages of convenience. Given your family’s history, I’d think that you wouldn’t either.” She colored. “And why do assume it would be such a thing? Is it so hard to believe that a man might genuinely care for me? That he might actually want to marry me for myself?” “Why would anyone wish to marry the reckless Lady Celia, after all,” she went on in a choked voice, “if not for her fortune or to shore up his reputation?” “I didn’t mean any such thing,” he said sharply. But she’d worked herself up into a fine temper. “Of course you did. You kissed me last night only to make a point, and you couldn’t even bear to kiss me properly again today-“ “Now see here,” he said, grabbing her shoulders. “I didn’t kiss you ‘properly’ today because I was afraid if I did I might not stop.” That seemed to draw her up short. “Wh-What?” Sweet God, he shouldn’t have said that, but he couldn’t let her go on thinking she was some sort of pariah around men. “I knew that if I got his close, and I put my mouth on yours…” But now he was this close. And she was staring up at him with that mix of bewilderment and hurt pride, and he couldn’t help himself. Not anymore. He kissed her, to show her what she seemed blind to. That he wanted her. That even knowing it was wrong and could never work, he wanted to have her. She tore her lips from his. “Mr. Pinter-“ she began in a whisper. “Jackson,” he growled. “Let me hear you say my name.” Backing away from him, she cast him a wounded expression. “Y-you don’t have to pretend-“ “I’m not pretending anything, damn it!” Grabbing her by the sleeves, he dragged her close and kissed her again, with even more heat. How could she not see that he ached to take her? How could she not know what a temptation she was? Her lips intoxicated him, made him light-headed. Made him reckless enough to kiss her so impudently that any other woman of her rank would be insulted. When she pulled away a second time, he expected her to slap him. But all she did was utter a feeble protest. “Please, Mr. Pinter-“ “Jackson,” he ordered in a low, unsteady voice, emboldened by the melting look in her eyes. “Say my Christian name.” Her lush dark lashes lowered as a blush stained her cheeks. “Jackson…” His breath caught in his throat at the intimacy of it, and fire exploded in his brain. She wasn’t pushing him away, so to hell with trying to be a gentleman. He took her mouth savagely this time, plundering every part of its silky warmth as his blood pulsed high in his veins. She tasted of red wine and lemon cake, both tart and sweet at once. He wanted to eat her up. He wanted to take her, right here in this room. So when she pulled out of his arms to back away, he walked after her. She didn’t stop backing away, but neither did she turn tail and run. “Last night you claimed this wouldn’t happen again.” “I know. And yet it has.” Like someone in an opium den, he’d been craving her for months. And how that he’d suddenly had a taste of the very thing he craved, he had to have more. When she came up against the writing table, he caught her about the waist. She turned her head away before he could kiss her, so he settled for burying his face in her neck to nuzzle the tender throat he’d been coveting. With a shiver, she slid her hands up his chest. “Why are you doing this?” “Because I want you,” he admitted, damning himself. “Because I’ve always wanted you.” Then he covered her mouth with his once more.
Sabrina Jeffries (A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5))
You’re like a nuclear missile, you’re dropped somewhere and cause devastation all around. You’ve always been that way. And I figured you’d come here and just fucking destroy everything that stood against me, like you do all the time. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk you saying no, to the whole plan going out the window.” I got off Galahad, who adjusted his suit, but didn’t bother getting back to his feet. “Do you even know what Simon was here for?” “No, although we will. A few years in a dungeon will loosen his tongue a little.” “I never thought you’d be on the receiving end of my anger,” I said softly. “I always thought you’d be honest with me. That you knew how I felt after leaving Merlin, leaving behind the lies and manipulations. But I was wrong. You’re just shittier at it than he was.” “I have more important things to do than lament whatever has broken in our friendship,” he said, anger leaking from every syllable. “I think you should leave this city and this state.” “You’re having me kicked out?” Galahad shook his head. “I’ll be putting Bill Moon in charge of the investigation into what happened here. We’ll make things more palatable for the humans living here, and then we’ll be taking Simon back to Shadow Falls.” “And Rean?” “He has refused my aid and vanished with his remaining colony into the woods. Nine out of twenty-two died today, I doubt he wishes to involve himself with the affairs of anyone other than his colony.” “You lost two allies in space of a day and damaged your reputation as a ruler who takes care of his own. Congrats. You must be very proud.” “I think we’re done here,” he said and got back to his feet once more. I took a step toward him and I noticed something in his expression. Fear. But not fear of me, Galahad would never have been scared of me, but maybe the fear of what had been lost between us, and my anger evaporated, replaced with sadness. “Galahad, you should know something,” I said, gaining his attention as he walked off toward the house. He stopped at the open door and glanced back at me. “What is it?” “I’m not a nuclear bomb, I’m a scalpel. I cut away the tumors and diseased flesh that threatens to consume everything. So, you need to be very careful that during your reign, you don’t become something that requires my utmost attention.” And with that, I turned and walked away.
Steve McHugh (With Silent Screams (Hellequin Chronicles, #3))
These names of virtues, with their precepts, were: 1. TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. ORDER. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. MODERATION. Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation. 11. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. CHASTITY. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation. 13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Benjamin Franklin (The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin)
Speaking of debutantes,” Jake continued cautiously when Ian remained silent, “what about the one upstairs? Do you dislike her especially, or just on general principle?” Ian walked over to the table and poured some Scotch into a glass. He took a swallow, shrugged, and said, “Miss Cameron was more inventive than some of her vapid little friends. She accosted me in a garden at a party.” “I can see how bothersome that musta been,” Jake joked, “having someone like her, with a face that men dream about, tryin’ to seduce you, usin’ feminine wiles on you. Did they work?” Slamming the glass down on the table, Ian said curtly, “They worked.” Coldly dismissing Elizabeth from his mind, he opened the deerskin case on the table, removed some papers he needed to review, and sat down in front of the fire. Trying to suppress his avid curiosity, Jake waited a few minutes before asking, “Then what happened?” Already engrossed in reading the documents in his hand, Ian said absently and without looking up, “I asked her to marry me; she sent me a note inviting me to meet her in the greenhouse; I went there; her brother barged in on us and informed me she was a countess, and that she was already betrothed.” The topic thrust from his mind, Ian reached for the quill lying on the small table beside his chair and made a note in the margin of the contract. “And?” Jake demanded avidly. “And what?” “And then what happened-after the brother barged in?” “He took exception to my having contemplated marrying so far above myself and challenged me to a duel,” Ian replied in a preoccupied voice as he made another note on the contract. “So what’s the girl doin’ here now?” Jake asked, scratching his head in bafflement over the doings of the Quality. “Who the hell knows,” Ian murmured irritably. “Based on her behavior with me, my guess is she finally got caught in some sleezy affair or another, and her reputation’s beyond repair.” “What’s that got to do with you?” Ian expelled his breath in a long, irritated sigh and glanced at Jake with an expression that made it clear he was finished answering questions. “I assume,” he bit out, “that her family, recalling my absurd obsession with her two years ago, hoped I’d come up to scratch again and take her off their hands.” “You think it’s got somethin’ to do with the old duke talking about you bein’ his natural grandson and wantin’ to make you his heir?” He waited expectantly, hoping for more information, but Ian ignored him, reading his documents. Left with no other choice and no prospect for further confidences, Jake picked up a candle, gathered up some blankets, and started for the barn. He paused at the door, struck by a sudden thought. “She said she didn’t send you any note about meetin’ her in the greenhouse.” “She’s a liar and an excellent little actress,” Ian said icily, without taking his gaze from the papers. “Tomorrow I’ll think of some way to get her out of here and off my hands.” Something in Ian’s face made him ask, “Why the hurry? You afraid of fallin’ fer her wiles again?” “Hardly.” “Then you must be made of stone,” he teased. “That woman’s so beautiful she’d tempt any man who was alone with her for an hour-includin’ me, and you know I ain’t in the petticoat line at all.” “Don’t let her catch you alone,” Ian replied mildly. “I don’t think I’d mind.” Jake laughed as he left.
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
Since we’re on the topic, I’d also like to set some ground rules.” “What kind of ground rules?” he asks, leaning back. I press my lips together and take a breath. “Well…I don’t want you trying to kiss me again.” Peter curls his lip at me. “Trust me, I don’t want to do it either. My forehead still hurts from this morning. I think I have a bruise.” He pushes his hair off his forehead. “Do you see a bruise?” “No, but I see a receding hairline.” “What?” Ha. I knew that would get him. Peter’s so vain. “Calm down, I’m only kidding. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” “You’re gonna write this down?” Primly I say, “It’ll help us remember.” Rolling his eyes, Peter reaches into his backpack, pulls out a notebook, and hands it to me. I turn to a clean page and write at the top, Contract. Then I write No kissing. “Are people really gonna buy it if we never touch each other in public?” Peter asks, looking skeptical. “I don’t think relationships are just about physicality. There are ways to show you care about someone, not just using your lips.” Peter’s smiling, and he looks like he’s about to crack a joke, so I swiftly add, “Or any other body part.” He groans. “You’ve gotta give me something here, Lara Jean. I have a reputation to uphold. None of my friends will believe I suddenly turned into a monk to date you. How about at least a hand in your back jean pocket? Trust me, it’ll be strictly professional.” I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that he cares way too much what people think about him. I just nod and write down, Peter is allowed to put a hand in Lara Jean’s back jean pocket. “But no more kissing,” I say, keeping my head down so he can’t see me blush. “You’re the one who started it,” he reminds me.
Jenny Han (To All the Boys I've Loved Before (To All the Boys I've Loved Before, #1))
I suppose we ought to go back,” she said when several minutes had passed, and his silence became unsettling. In answer Ian tipped his head back and closed his eyes, looking like a man in the throes of some deep, internal battle. “Why?” he said, still in that odd posture. “Because there’s nowhere else to walk,” she answered, stating the obvious. “We did not come out tonight to walk,” he said flatly. Elizabeth’s sense of security began to disintegrate. “We didn’t?” “You know we didn’t.” “Then-then why are we here?” she asked. “Because we wanted to be alone together.” Horrified at the possibility that he’d somehow known what thoughts had been running through her mind at supper, she said uneasily, “Why should you think I want to be alone with you?” He turned his head toward her, and his relentless gaze locked with hers. “Come here and I’ll show you why.” Her entire body began to vibrate with a mixture of shock, desire, and fear, but somehow her mind remained in control. It was one thing to want to be kissed by him at the cottage where the vicar was nearby, but here, with absolute privacy and nothing to prevent him from taking all sorts of liberties, it was another matter entirely. Far more dangerous. More frightening. And based on her behavior in England, she couldn’t even blame him for thinking she’d be willing now. Struggling desperately to ignore the sensual pull he was exerting on her, Elizabeth drew a long, shaky breath. “Mr. Thornton,” she began quietly. “My name is Ian,” he interrupted. “Considering our long acquaintance-not to mention what has transpired between us-don’t you think it’s a little ridiculous to call me Mr. Thornton?” Ignoring his tone, Elizabeth tried to keep hers nonjudgmental and continue her explanation. “I used to blame you entirely for what happened that weekend we were together,” she began softly. “But I’ve come to see things more clearly.” She paused in that valiant speech to swallow and then plunged in again. “The truth is that my actions that first night, when we met in the garden and I asked you to dance with me, were foolish-no, shameless.” Elizabeth stopped, knowing that she could partly exonerate herself by explaining to him that she’d only done all that so her friends wouldn’t lose their wagers, but he would undoubtedly find that degrading and insulting, and she wanted very much to soothe matters between them, not make them much, much worse. And so she said haltingly, “Every other time we were alone together after that I behaved like a shameless wanton. I can’t completely blame you for thinking that’s exactly what I was.” His voice was heavy with irony. “Is that what I thought, Elizabeth?” His deep voice saying her name in the darkness made her senses jolt almost as much as the odd way he was looking at her across the distance that separated them. “Wh-what else could you have thought?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned fully toward her. “I thought,” he gritted, “you were not only beautiful but intoxicatingly innocent. If I’d believed when we were standing in the garden that you realized what the hell you were asking for when you flirted with a man of my years and reputation, I’d have taken you up on your offer, and we’d both have missed the dancing.” Elizabeth gaped at him. “I don’t believe you.” “What don’t you believe-that I wanted to drag you behind the hedges then and there and make you melt in my arms? Or that I had scruples enough to ignore that ignoble impulse?
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
They won’t do it, Ian,” Jordan Townsende said the night after Ian was released on his own recognizance. Pacing back and forth across Ian’s drawing room, he said again, “They will not do it.” “They’ll do it,” Ian said dispassionately. The words were devoid of concern; not even his eyes showed interest. Days ago Ian had passed the point of caring about the investigation. Elizabeth was gone; there had been no ransom note, nothing whatever-no reason in the world to continue believing that she’d been taken against her will. Since Ian knew damned well he hadn’t killed her or had her abducted, the only remaining conclusion was that Elizabeth had left him for someone else. The authorities were still vacillating about the other man she’d allegedly met in the arbor because the gardener’s eyesight had been proven to be extremely poor, and even he admitted that it “might have been tree limbs moving around her in the dim light, instead of a man’s arms.” Ian, however, did not doubt it. The existence of a lover was the only thing that made sense; he had even suspected it the night before she disappeared. She hadn’t wanted him in her bed; if anything but a lover had been worrying her that night, she’d have sought the protection of his arms, even if she didn’t confide in him. But he had been the last thing she’d wanted. No, he hadn’t actually suspected it-that would have been more pain than he could have endured then. Now, however, he not only suspected it, he knew it, and the pain was beyond anything he’d ever imagined existed. “I tell you they won’t bring you to trial,” Jordan repeated. “Do you honestly think they will?” he demanded, looking first to Duncan and then to the Duke of Stanhope, who were seated in the drawing room. In answer, both men raised dazed, pain-filled eyes to Jordan’s, shook their heads in an effort to seem decisive, then looked back down at their hands. Under English law Ian was entitled to a trial before his peers; since he was a British lord, that meant he could only be tried in the House of Lords, and Jordan was clinging to that as if it were Ian’s lifeline. “You aren’t the first man among us to have a spoiled wife turn missish on him and vanish for a while in hopes of bringing him to heel,” Jordan continued, desperately trying to make it seem as if Elizabeth were merely sulking somewhere-no doubt unaware that her husband’s reputation had been demolished and that his very life was going to be in jeopardy. “They aren’t going to convene the whole damn House of Lords just to try a beleaguered husband whose wife has taken a start,” he continued fiercely. “Hell, half the lords in the House can’t control their wives. Why should you be any different?” Alexandra looked up at him, her eyes filled with misery and disbelief. Like Ian, she knew Elizabeth wasn’t indulging in a fit of the sullens. Unlike Ian, however, she could not and would not believe her friend had taken a lover and run away. Ian’s butler appeared in the doorway, a sealed message in his hand, which he handed to Jordan. “Who knows?” Jordan tried to joke as he opened it. “Maybe this is from Elizabeth-a note asking me to intercede with you before she dares present herself to you.” His smile faded abruptly. “What is it?” Alex cried, seeing his haggard expression. Jordan crumpled the summons in his hand and turned to Ian with angry regret. “They’re convening the House of Lords.” “It’s good to know,” Ian said with cold indifference as he pushed out of his chair and started for his study, “that I’ll have one friend and one relative there.
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
As I’ve told you many times, I’m split in two. One side contains my exuberant cheerfulness, my flippancy, my joy in life and, above all, my ability to appreciate the lighter side of things. By that I mean not finding anything wrong with flirtations, a kiss, an embrace, an off-color joke. This side of me is usually lying in wait to ambush the other one, which is much purer, deeper and finer. No one knows Anne’s better side, and that’s why most people can’t stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that everyone’s had enough of me to last a month. Actually, I’m what a romantic movie is to a profound thinker—a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten: not bad, but not particularly good either. I hate having to tell you this, but why shouldn’t I admit it when I know it’s true? My lighter, more superficial side will always steal a march on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can’t imagine how often I’ve tried to push away this Anne, which is only half of what is known as Anne—to beat her down, hide her. But it doesn’t work, and I know why. I’m afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I’m afraid they’ll mock me, think I’m ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I’m used to not being taken seriously, but only the “lighthearted” Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the “deeper” Anne is too weak. If I force the good Anne into the spotlight for even fifteen minutes, she shuts up like a clam the moment she’s called upon to speak, and lets Anne number one do the talking. Before I realize it, she’s disappeared. So the nice Anne is never seen in company. She’s never made a single appearance, though she almost always takes the stage when I’m alone. I know exactly how I’d like to be, how I am … on the inside. But unfortunately I’m only like that with myself. And perhaps that’s why—no, I’m sure that’s the reason why—I think of myself as happy on the inside and other people think I’m happy on the outside. I’m guided by the pure Anne within, but on the outside I’m nothing but a frolicsome little goat tugging at its tether. As I’ve told you, what I say is not what I feel, which is why I have a reputation for being boy-crazy as well as a flirt, a smart aleck and a reader of romances. The happy-go-lucky Anne laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs her shoulders and pretends she doesn’t give a darn. The quiet Anne reacts in just the opposite way. If I’m being completely honest, I’ll have to admit that it does matter to me, that I’m trying very hard to change myself, but that I’m always up against a more powerful enemy. A voice within me is sobbing, “You see, that’s what’s become of you. You’re surrounded by negative opinions, dismayed looks and mocking faces, people who dislike you, and all because you don’t listen to the advice of your own better half.” Believe me, I’d like to listen, but it doesn’t work, because if I’m quiet and serious, everyone thinks I’m putting on a new act and I have to save myself with a joke, and then I’m not even talking about my own family, who assume I must be sick, stuff me with aspirins and sedatives, feel my neck and forehead to see if I have a temperature, ask about my bowel movements and berate me for being in a bad mood, until I just can’t keep it up anymore, because when everybody starts hovering over me, I get cross, then sad, and finally end up turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside and the good part on the inside, and keep trying to find a way to become what I’d like to be and what I could be if … if only there were no other people in the world.
Anne Frank (The Diary Of a Young Girl)
Your only other option is to marry one of us.” He paused. “Me.” Travis suddenly felt the need to clear his throat. “This alternative would repair your reputation, give you a place to live, and provide the protection of four able-bodied men. Unless you have something else to suggest . . . ?” “Actually, there is something else.” Her quiet statement startled him. “There is?” He glanced over at Crockett. His brother shrugged. Meredith slowly lowered herself into the straight-back chair, the fight draining from her. “I could leave Anderson County. I could go farther west to where the railroad is opening new towns, or head to a larger city where no one knows me.” Her chin jutted upward. “I could find work. Make a clean start.” Leave Anderson County? Travis frowned. He hadn’t considered that option. Didn’t really want to, either. It was reckless. Dangerous. And for some odd reason . . . disappointing. Besides, he’d already settled his mind on this marrying business. No sense muddying the waters. “You’re a good man, Travis. An honorable man.” Meredith plucked at her sleeve. “You drew the short straw, and you’re willing to stand before a preacher because you feel responsible for me. But you’re not. I made the decision to come here, and I’ll deal with the consequences. You deserve to have a wife of your own choosing, not one forced on you through circumstances outside your control.” “It’s not like that, Meredith. It’s . . .” Travis sighed and rubbed his jaw. Why did she say nothing about what she deserved? He didn’t know much about the workings of the female mind, but he knew one thing—she deserved a choice. “I’m not going to force you, Meredith. If you believe leaving is the best option, I’ll not stop you. But if you think you might be able to make a home for yourself here, with a bunch of unrefined men, we’d like you to stay. I’d like you to stay.” Stretching his hand across the space that separated them, he caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then let his arm fall away. “You’re a fine woman, Meredith Hayes. You’re strong and brave and kind. And should you decide to take a chance on me, I’d be honored to make you my bride.
Karen Witemeyer (Short-Straw Bride (Archer Brothers, #1))
Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” “No,” he said immediately, reassuring her. “Westcliff isn’t given to gossip. He won’t say a word to anyone, except…” “Except?” “Lady Westcliff. He’ll probably tell her.” Amelia considered that, thinking perhaps it wasn’t so terrible. Lady Westcliff didn’t seem like the kind of person who would condemn her for this. The countess seemed quite tolerant of scandalous behavior. “Of course,” Rohan continued, “if Lady Westcliff knows, there’s a high probability she’ll tell Lady St. Vincent, who’s due to arrive with Lord St. Vincent by the end of the week. And since Lady St. Vincent tells her husband everything, he’ll know about it, too. Other than that, no one will find out. Unless…” Her head jerked upward like a string puppet’s. “Unless what?” “Unless Lord St. Vincent mentions it to Mr. Hunt, who would undoubtedly tell Mrs. Hunt, and then … everyone would find out.” “Oh, no. I can’t bear it.” He gave her an alert glance. “Why? Because you were caught kissing a Gypsy?” “No, because I’m not the kind of woman who is caught kissing anyone. I don’t have rendezvous! When everyone finds out, I’ll have no dignity left. No reputation. No—What are you smiling at?” “You. I wouldn’t have expected such melodrama.” That annoyed Amelia, who was not the kind of woman who indulged in theatrics. She wedged her arms more firmly between them. “My reaction is perfectly reasonable considering—” “You’re not bad at it.” She blinked in confusion. “Melodrama?” “No, kissing. With a little practice, you’d be exceptional. But you need to relax.” “I don’t want to relax. I don’t want to … oh, dear Lord.” He had bent his head to her throat, searching for the visible thrum of her pulse. A light, hot shock went through her. “Don’t do that,” she said weakly, but he was insistent, his mouth wickedly soft, and her breath hitched as she felt the brush of his tongue. Her hands shot to his muscle-banked shoulders. “Mr. Rohan, you mustn’t—” “This is how to kiss, Amelia.” He cradled her head in his palms, deftly tilting it to the side. “Noses go here.” Another disorienting brush of his mouth, a wash of sensual heat. “You taste like sugar and tea.” “I already know how to kiss!” “Do you?” His thumb passed over her kiss-heated lips, urging them to part. “Then show me,” he whispered. “Let me in, Amelia.
Lisa Kleypas (Mine Till Midnight (The Hathaways, #1))
Amy?" he breathed. Two dancers, caught up in the dance, didn't see him standing there and collided with him, nearly knocking him down. "Lord Charles!  I beg your pardon!" But he never heard them.  He never saw them.  He had eyes only for the stunning beauty who was being swept around the dance floor by Gareth's friend Perry.  She was a ravishing young woman in shimmering peacock and royal blue whose beauty commanded the eye, the attention, the heart — and made every other woman in the room pale to insignificance. Charles's mouth went dry.  His heartbeat cracked his chest and he forgot to breathe. Another set of dancers collided with him, knocking him to his senses.  Angrily, he stared into the amused eyes of Gareth's friend Neil Chilcot, another Den of Debauchery member who was partnering a grinning Nerissa.  "Gorgeous young woman, isn't she?" quipped Chilcot, sweeping Nerissa past.  "You should've stuck around to see her announced, Charles.  Not that you'll ever have a chance of claiming a dance with her now, what with all the young bucks before you already waiting . . ." Charles had heard enough.  But as he stalked across the dance floor, he heard even more. "Well, His Grace told me she's an heiress . . ." "Not just an heiress, but a princess from some vast Indian nation in America . . ." ". . . came here to offer her tribe's help in the war against the Americans . . ." Charles clenched his fists.  Lucien.  No one else could have, would have, started and circulated such a preposterously crazy rumor!  What the hell was his brother trying to do, get Amy married off to some handsome young swain and out of Charles's life forever?  This was no training for a lady's maid, that was for damned sure! His jaw tight, he stormed across the dance floor toward Amy.  He saw her hooped petticoats swirling about her legs and exposing a tantalizing bit of ankle with every step she took, the laughter in her face even though she kept glancing over Perry's shoulder in search of someone, the studied grace in her movements that, a week ago, he would've sworn she didn't have. She had not seen him yet, and as Perry, a handsome man who had something of a reputation with the ladies, led her through the steps, Charles felt a surge of jealousy so fierce, so violent, that it made him think of doing something totally irrational. Such as calling Perry out for dancing with his woman. Such as killing Lucien for whatever little game he was playing. Such
Danelle Harmon (The Beloved One (The De Montforte Brothers, #2))
In other words, you'll pretend to be someone else in order to snag a husband." "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said defensively, "it's no different than what half the women in society do to catch a man. I don't want to waste my time in pointless flirtation when a little knowledge will improve my aim on the targets." He flashed her a condescending smile. "What is it?" she snapped. "Only you would approach courtship as a marksman approaches a shooting match." He licked the tip of his pencil. "So who are these hapless targets?" "The Earl of Devonmont, the Duke of Lyons, and Fernandez Valdez, the Viscount de Basto." His jaw dropped. "Are you insane?" "I know they're rather beyond my reach, but they seem to like my company-" "I daresay they do!" He strode up to her, strangely angry. "The earl is a rakehell with a notorious reputation for trying to get beneath the skirts of every woman he meets. The duke's father was mad, and it's said to run in his family, which is why most women steer clear of him. And Basto is a Portuguese idiot who's too old for you and clearly trawling for some sweet young thing to nurse him in his declining years." "How can you say such things? The only one you know personally is Lord Devonmont, and you barely know even him." "I don't have to. Their reputations tell me they're utterly unacceptable." Unacceptable? Three of the most eligible bachelors in London? Mr. Pinter was mad, not her. "Lord Devonmont is Gabe's wife's cousin. The duke of Gabe's best friend, whom I've known since childhood, and the viscount...well..." "Is an oily sort, from what I hear," he snapped. "No, he isn't. He's very pleasant to talk to." Really, this was the most ridiculous conversation. "Who the devil do you think I should marry, anyway?" That seemed to take him aback. He glanced away. "I don't know," he muttered. "But no...That is, you shouldn't..." He tugged at his cravat. "They're wrong for you, that's all." She'd flustered Mr. Pinter. How astonishing! He was never flustered. It made him look vulnerable and much less...stiff. She rather liked that. But she'd like it even better if she understood what had provoked it. "Why do you care whom I choose, as long as you're paid? I'm wiling to pay extra to ensure that you find out everything I want to know." Once more he turned into Proud Pinter. "It isn't a matter of payment, madam. I choose my own assignments, and this one isn't to my taste. Good day," Turning on his heel, he headed for the door. Oh, dear, she hadn't meant to run him off entirely.
Sabrina Jeffries (A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5))
It is foolish to be in thrall to fame and fortune, engaged in painful striving all your life with never a moment of peace and tranquillity. Great wealth will drive you to neglect your own well-being in pursuit of it. It is asking for harm and tempting trouble. Though you leave behind at your death a mountain of gold high enough to prop up the North Star itself, it will only cause problems for those who come after you. Nor is there any point in all those pleasures that delight the eyes of fools. Big carriages, fat horses, glittering gold and jewels – any man of sensibility would view such things as gross stupidity. Toss your gold away in the mountains; hurl your jewels into the deep. Only a complete fool is led astray by avarice. Everyone would like to leave their name unburied for posterity – but the high-born and exalted are not necessarily fine people, surely. A dull, stupid person can be born into a good house, attain high status thanks to opportunity and live in the height of luxury, while many wonderfully wise and saintly men choose to remain in lowly positions, and end their days without ever having met with good fortune. A fierce craving for high status and position is next in folly to the lust for fortune. We long to leave a name for our exceptional wisdom and sensibility – but when you really think about it, desire for a good reputation is merely revelling in the praise of others. Neither those who praise us nor those who denigrate will remain in the world for long, and others who hear their opinions will be gone in short order as well. Just who should we feel ashamed before, then? Whose is the recognition we should crave? Fame in fact attracts abuse and slander. No, there is nothing to be gained from leaving a lasting name. The lust for fame is the third folly. Let me now say a few words, however, to those who dedicate themselves to the search for knowledge and the desire for understanding. Knowledge leads to deception; talent and ability only serve to increase earthly desires. Knowledge acquired by listening to others or through study is not true knowledge. So what then should we call knowledge? Right and wrong are simply part of a single continuum. What should we call good? One who is truly wise has no knowledge or virtue, nor honour nor fame. Who then will know of him, and speak of him to others? This is not because he hides his virtue and pretends foolishness – he is beyond all distinctions such as wise and foolish, gain and loss. I have been speaking of what it is to cling to one’s delusions and seek after fame and fortune. All things of this phenomenal world are mere illusion. They are worth neither discussing nor desiring.
Yoshida Kenkō (A Cup of Sake Beneath the Cherry Trees)
Perhaps I won’t tire of her,” Gray protested, just to be contrary. Because, apparently, that was how brothers behaved. “Perhaps a dolphin will fly out of your arse. And here’s an argument even you can’t refuse. Grayson Shipping doesn’t need a reputation for delivering damaged goods. You want me to hand George Waltham an impregnated governess?” “I wouldn’t get her with child. Give me that much credit, at least.” “I give you credit for nothing. Let’s try this one last time, shall we? You made me this ship’s captain. If I’m the captain, what I say goes. And I say you don’t touch her. If you can’t abide by my orders, take command of the ship yourself and let me go home.” “Go home and do what? Squander your fortune and talent on dirt farming?” “Go home and take care of my own family. Go home and do what I damn well please, for once.” Cursing, Gray leaned against the wall. He knew Joss would make good on that threat, too. It hadn’t been easy, coaxing his brother out of mourning. Gray had resorted to outright bullying just to convince him to take command of the Aphrodite, threatening to cut off his income unless he reported to London as agreed. But he needed Joss, if this shipping concern was to stay afloat. He’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much to see it fail. And if Joss didn’t become a willing partner, it all would have been in vain. “Stay away from the girl, Gray.” Gray sighed. “We’re on the same ship. I can’t help but be near her. I’ll not promise to refrain from touching her, because the girl seems to lose her footing whenever I’m around. But I give you my word I’ll not kiss her again. Satisfied?” Joss shook his head. “Give me your word you won’t bed her.” “What a legend you’re making me! Insinuating I could bed her without even kissing her first.” Gray worried the edge of his thumbnail as he considered. “That might prove an amusing challenge, now that you suggest it.” Joss shot him an incredulous look. “With some other lady, on some other ship.” Gray raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’ll not bed her. You have my word. And don’t think that’s not a great sacrifice, because it is. I’d have her in two, three days at the most, I tell you.” “Once again-not amusing.” “For God’s sake, Joss, it’s a joke. What do you want, an apology? I’m sorry for kissing Miss Turner’s hand, all right?” Joss shook his head and flipped open the logbook. “No, you’re not.” “Yes, I am.” The odd thing of it was, Gray was telling the truth. He knew he was being an ass, but the joking was easier than honesty. For all his teasing, he hadn’t kissed her hand with the intent to seduce, or to judge if she tasted as sweet as he’d dreamed. He’d kissed her fingers for one reason only. Because they were trembling, and he’d wanted them to stop. It was wholly unlike him, that kiss. It was not a gesture he thought it wise to repeat. That girl did something strange to him.
Tessa Dare (Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy, #2))
I crossed the garden, staying near the hedgerow borders until the pathway debouched onto one of the lovely brick streets. A quick glance down the street revealed scarcely any traffic--but way up at the other end were two tall, armed individuals wearing blue and black-and-white livery. Which meant the Marquis was somewhere around. For a moment I indulged in a brief but satisfying daydream of scoring him off as I had off the Baron the night before. But amusing as the daydream was, I was not about to go searching him out. First of all, while I didn’t look like I had before, the dress wasn’t much of a disguise; and second…I frowned. Despite his reputation as a fop and a gamester, I wasn’t all that certain he would react as slowly as Debegri had. I retreated back to the garden to think out my next step. Mist was falling, boding ill weather for the remainder of the day. And my stomach felt as if it had been permanently pressed against the back of my spine. I pulled the laces of the bodice tighter, hoping that would help, then sat on a rock and propped my elbows on my knees. “Are you lost?” The voice, a quiet one, made me start violently. My shoulders came up defensively as I turned to face an elderly man. He was elegantly dressed, wearing a fine hat in the latest fashion, and carried no weapons. “Oh no. I was supposed to meet someone here, and…” I shrugged, thinking wildly. “A-a flirt,” I added, I don’t know why. “I guess he changed his mind.” I got to my feet again. The man smiled a little. “It happens more frequently than not when one is young, if you’ll forgive my saying so.” “Oh, I know.” I waved my hands as I backed up one step, then another. “They smile, and dance, and then go off with someone else. But I’ll just find someone better. So I’ll be on my way,” I babbled. He nodded politely, almost a bow, and I whirled around and scurried down the path. Even more intensely than before, I felt that crawling sensation down my spine, so I dropped off the path and circled back. I was slightly reassured when I saw the old man making his way slowly along the path as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened; but my relief was very short lived. As I watched, two equerries in Renselaeus livery strode along the path, overtook the man, and addressed him. I watched with my heart thumping like a drum as the man spoke at some length, brushed his fingers against his face--the scratches from the trees!--and then gestured in the direction I had gone. Expecting the two equerries to immediately take off after me, I braced for a run. Why had I babbled so much? I thought, annoyed with myself. Why didn’t I just say “No” and leave? But the equerries both turned and walked swiftly back in the direction they’d come, and the old man continued on his way. What does that mean? And the answer was not long in coming: They were going back to report. Which meant a whole lot of them searching. And soon.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
I have come, my lovely,” Roddy said with his usual sardonic grin as he swept her a deep bow, “in answer to your urgent summons-and, I might add,-“ he continued, “before I presented myself at the Willingtons’, exactly as your message instructed.” At 5’10”, Roddy Carstairs was a slender man of athletic build with thinning brown hair and light blue eyes. In fact, his only distinguishing characteristics were his fastidiously tailored clothes, a much-envied ability to tie a neckcloth into magnificently intricate folds that never drooped, and an acid wit that accepted no boundaries when he chose a human target. “Did you hear about Kensington?” “Who?” Alex said absently, trying to think of the best means to persuade him to do what she needed done. “The new Marquess of Kensington, once known as Mr. Ian Thornton, persona non grata. Amazing, is it not, what wealth and title will do?” he continued, studying Alex’s tense face as he continued, “Two years ago we wouldn’t have let him past the front door. Six months ago word got out that he’s worth a fortune, and we started inviting him to our parties. Tonight he’s the heir to a dukedom, and we’ll be coveting invitations to his parties. We are”-Roddy grinned-“when you consider matters from this point of view, a rather sickening and fickle lot.” In spite of herself, Alexandra laughed. “Oh, Roddy,” she said, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “You always make me laugh, even when I’m in the most dreadful coil, which I am now. You could make things so very much better-if you would.” Roddy helped himself to a pinch of snuff, lifted his arrogant brows, and waited, his look both suspicious and intrigued. “I am, of course, your most obedient servant,” he drawled with a little mocking bow. Despite that claim, Alexandra knew better. While other men might be feared for their tempers or their skill with rapier and pistol, Roddy Carstairs was feared for his cutting barbs and razor tongue. And, while one could not carry a rapier or a pistol into a ball, Roddy could do his damage there unimpeded. Even sophisticated matrons lived in fear of being on the wrong side of him. Alex knew exactly how deadly he could be-and how helpful, for he had made her life a living hell when she came to London the first time. Later he had done a complete turnabout, and it had been Roddy who had forced the ton to accept her. He had done it not out of friendship or guilt; he had done it because he’d decided it would be amusing to test his power by building a reputation for a change, instead of shredding it. “There is a young woman whose name I’ll reveal in a moment,” Alex began cautiously, “to whom you could be of great service. You could, in fact, rescue her as you did me long ago, Roddy, if only you would.” “Once was enough,” he mocked. “I could hardly hold my head up for shame when I thought of my unprecedented gallantry.” “She’s incredibly beautiful,” Alex said. A mild spark of interest showed in Roddy’s eyes, but nothing stronger. While other men might be affected by feminine beauty, Roddy generally took pleasure in pointing out one’s faults for the glee of it. He enjoyed flustering women and never hesitated to do it. But when he decided to be kind he was the most loyal of friends.
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
Days like that I feel that my mind is going 1,000,000 miles an hour, visions of the past, present, and future race through my mind. It races, like a train as if I was looking out the window of the car while it is speeding down the line. I am on a track that will never end.' 'I feel that I am going to derail from this runaway train that I am becoming. I cannot sleep at night, because of the fear inside me.' 'I feel restless, depressed, and loveless as well as not content with myself. I would have to say that my passion for life is gone; my imagination is the only thing that keeps me going.' 'I write the day's events that have gone by in my book of life of all the pastimes, while dreaming of what could have been in it, and besides what has not been in it.' 'If this does not stop, I am going to crack. I look into my mirror, and I do not see me, I see an impression of what I used to be.' 'I see my long brown hair that covers part of my face and covers my blue eyes of emotion. I see the cross around my neck that brings me confidence.' 'I hide behind a smile; I see the body in which nobody thinks is without drought flawless.' 'The bare body that is touched in all ways, yet I tried to hide behind my makeup. I gasp at my pale skin and the look of my body.' 'I am 95 pounds, really tiny; surely there is someone that would find me attractive?' 'I wonder if I can find someone who can think for themselves. I want someone who will love me, for who I am- and not what they want me to be.' 'Most importantly, I need someone that will not use me. Is that too much to ask for?' 'Fear!' 'Anxiety is something that I have inside, it is the source of the things which lead to distress. Not finding someone that loves me, for who I am, is some of my fears.' 'I fear the fact that I am most likely going to be alone forever. Another being that everyone that has meaning in my life is fading away from me it seems.' 'I fear not having a family by my side at all times. I have tears about the overwhelming struggle to rebuild my reputation, which has been destroyed.' 'I ask this question if I was to die tomorrow would anybody come to my wake, to see me lying there?' 'I fear what society has done to me. I fear that I have no trust in anyone or anything. I fear that my life has no meaning.' 'I fear that I will never get out of this hell.' 'I just want to start my life and get a degree in nursing someday from- 'The Conemaugh School of Nursing,' if I can make it through all of this. I do not think that is too much to ask for or is it?' 'I think that if I could be left alone, with the one that I want. I could have a life; you know what I am sure of it. I fear that the towering entity will never collapse, and the demons will keep playing in my head. I fear that I will never have a social ability, to be part of the nobility of compatibility.' 'I fear that the terror will never stop in these innocent lives like mine, and they will not be saved. I fear that nobody will ever see my creativity or recognize me for the good in which I do for others. I feel like I am the only one left in this world, that I call my life.' 'All the beauty in life has been dejected, and it is all ablaze around me. Yes, I fear to be in the outside realm of things.' 'I want to scream yet no one is going to hear it. I ask- am I becoming institutionalized?
Marcel Ray Duriez (Walking the Halls (Nevaeh))
If it will reassure you that I’m not a coward, I suppose I could rearrange his face.” Quietly he added, “The music has ended,” and for the first time Elizabeth realized they were no longer waltzing but were only swaying lightly together. With no other excuse to stand in his arms, Elizabeth tried to ignore her disappointment and step back, but just then the musicians began another melody, and their bodies began to move together in perfect time to the music. “Since I’ve already deprived you of your escort for the outing to the village tomorrow,” he said after a minute, “would you consider an alternative?” Her heart soared, because she thought he was going to offer to escort her himself. Again he read her thoughts, but his words were dampening. “I cannot escort you there,” he said flatly. Her smile faded. “Why not?” “Don’t be a henwit. Being seen in my company is hardly the sort of thing to enhance a debutante’s reputation.” Her mind whirled, trying to tally some sort of balance sheet that would disprove his claim. After all, he was a favorite of the Duke of Hammund’s…but while the duke was considered a great matrimonial prize, his reputation as a libertine and rake made mamas fear him as much as they coveted him as a son-in-law. On the other hand, Charise Dumont was considered perfectly respectable by the ton, and so this country gathering was above reproach. Except it wasn’t, according to Lord Howard. “Is that why you refused to dance with me when I asked you to earlier?” “That was part of the reason.” “What was the rest of it?” she asked curiously. His chuckle was grim. “Call it a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.” “What?” “Your eyes are more lethal than dueling pistols, my sweet,” he said wryly. “They could make a saint forget his goal.” Elizabeth had heard many flowery praises sung to her beauty, and she endured them with polite disinterest, but Ian’s blunt, almost reluctant flattery made her chuckle. Later she would realize that at this moment she had made her greatest mistake of all-she had been lulled into regarding him as an equal, a gently bred person whom she could trust, even relax with. “What sort of alternative were you going to suggest for tomorrow?” “Luncheon,” he said. “Somewhere private where we can talk, and where we won’t be seen together.” A cozy picnic luncheon for two was definitely not on Lucinda’s list of acceptable pastimes for London debutantes, but even so, Elizabeth was reluctant to refuse. “Outdoors…by the lake?” she speculated aloud, trying to justify the idea by making it public. “I think it’s going to rain tomorrow, and besides, we’d risk being seen together there.” “Then where?” “In the woods. I’ll meet you at the woodcutter’s cottage at the south end of the property near the stream at eleven. There's a path that leads to it two miles from the gate-off the main road." Elizabeth was too alarmed by such a prospect to stop to wonder how and when Ian Thornton had become so familiar with Charise's property and all its secluded haunts. "Absolutely not," she said in a shaky, breathless voice. Even she was not naïve enough to consider being alone with a man in a cottage, and she was terribly disappointed that he'd suggested it. Gentlemen didn't make such suggestions, and well-bred ladies never accepted them. Lucinda's warnings about such things had been eloquent and, Elizabeth felt, sensible.
Judith McNaught (Almost Heaven (Sequels, #3))
Lily understood this feeling too; she knew it all too well, it is just one more thing that just keeps things building up and building up, until the end. I never realized at the time how bad the situation would become until I went through it myself. There is no meaning behind it, which is what gets me. Am I the only one or are there more girls in this hellhole like me, which I do not know about, maybe there is? The bullies harass, it is like they smell their victims or maybe they can smell and taste the blood dripping down from the gash, which they have caused from before, and then it is like you are a wounded animal on Serengeti they come in packs. Until you have nothing- nothing left… they lick up what is left of your body time and time over, afterward you have to get up and go on with the day, knowing that you have a decision to make. What decision would you make? I know what decision I will make! Like most people my age, I do not drink and drug my brain cells away. I am not senseless or slutty, ‘I feel that being romantic is not dead, and it does exist. You just need to be with the right people, which can show you what real expressions of love are!’ So, are you like me by believing that nothing will ever destroy hope or dreams? On the other hand, are you someone like the clan? Are you going to be praised in the eyes of the fire, or the eyes of the clouds? Just like fallen angels, the ones that have fear of not standing up for what is righteous. Why, because it is more fashionable to live a life of turpitude. If someone has the light of hope, someone is going to want to dampen the affection. Just like me- when you are single for too long people start thinking, that you are either committed to yourself or that you are a little bit crazy or gay etcetera. I know this… I am not crazy or gay or whatever is said; I just have someone that blocks me out constantly while destroying my reputation. Just think about it. All of you have grown up with the roomers, your parents believed those parents, I do not have parents to fight for me, and the rest is history. So, what she and her clan said becomes known, and that is what was implied to my image. Is it true? Hell no, start thinking for yourself people. Just because someone says, something about someone else does not mean that it is factual. Oh, I have tried to fix it… However, it is out of my control, little do you all know that the tower is what prevents everything from happening. It is not my choice; she knew that I was going to be the empress; instead, she made me out to be the fool. She knew that I was one of the brightest stars in the land, and she had to bring that to an end, that was the beginning of the end of holding anyone's hands anymore within the land. The friends and romances were in the retrograde I was dubbed unreachable, she made me a forbidden selection. I had no choice but to become the hermit in the dwelling of lost and lonely dreams. To look on the bright side, all this has made me a stronger, better, more creative productive person. You cannot stop me now; I will forever shine, and guide others so that they can shine as well. Remember you are the ones listening to slandering voices. My question is why do you listen? Get to know me, and then make your judgments. Yes, it is hard for me to even get things going because the eyes are always watching, and no I am not being paranoid this is part of my true reality. Sure, the opportunity might come knocking down my door, but can you trust them, is it a setup?
Marcel Ray Duriez (Nevaeh The Lusting Sapphire Blue Eyes)
Jackson gaped at her, wondering how this had all turned so terrible wrong. But he knew how. The woman was clearly daft. Bedlam-witted. And trying to drive him in the same direction. "You can't be serious. Since when do you know anything about investigating people?" She planted her hands on her hips. "You won't do it, so I must." God save him, she was the most infuriating, maddening-"How do you propose to manage that?" She shrugged. "Ask them questions, I suppose. The house party for Oliver's birthday is next week. Lord Devonmont is already coming, and it will be easy to convince Gran to invite my other two. Once they're here, I could try sneaking into their rooms and listening in on their conversations or perhaps bribing their servants-" "You've lost your bloody mind," he hissed. Only after she lifted an eyebrow did he realize he'd cursed so foully in front of her. But the woman would turn a sane man into a blithering idiot! The thought of her wandering in and out of men's bedchambers, risking her virtue and her reputation, made his blood run cold. "You don't seem to understand," she said in a clipped tone, as if speaking to a child. "I have to catch a husband somehow. I need help, and I've nowhere else to turn. Minerva is rarely here, and Gran's matchmaking efforts are as subtle as a sledgehammer. And even if my brothers and their wives could do that sort of work, they're preoccupied with their own affairs. That leaves you, who seem to think that suitors drop from the skies at my whim. If I can't even entice you to help me for money, then I'll have to manage on my own." Turning on her heel, she headed for the door. Hell and blazes, she was liable to attempt such an idiotic thing, too. She had some fool notion she was invincible. That's why she spent her time shooting at targets with her brother's friends, blithely unconcerned that her rifle might misfire or a stray bullet hit her by mistake. The wench did as she pleased, and the men in her family let her. Someone had to curb her insanity, and it looked as if it would have to be him. "All right!" he called out. "I'll do it." She halted but didn't turn around. "You'll find out what I need in order to snag one of my choices as a husband?" "Yes." "Even if it means being a trifle underhanded?" He gritted his teeth. This would be pure torture. The underhandedness didn't bother him; he'd be as underhanded as necessary to get rid of those damned suitors. But he'd have to be around the too-tempting wench a great deal, if only to make sure the bastards didn't compromise her. Well, he'd just have to find something to send her running the other way. She wanted facts? By thunder, he'd give her enough damning facts to blacken her suitors thoroughly. Then what? If you know of some eligible gentleman you can strong-arm into courting me, then by all means, tell me. I'm open to suggestions. All right, so he had no one to suggest. But he couldn't let her marry any of her ridiculous choices. They would make her miserable-he was sure of it. He must make her see that she was courting disaster. Then he'd find someone more eligible for her. Somehow. She faced him. "Well?" "Yes," he said, suppressing a curse. "I'll do whatever you want." A disbelieving laugh escaped her. "That I'd like to see." When he scowled, she added hastily, "But thank you. Truly. And I'm happy to pay you extra for your efforts, as I said." He stiffened. "No need." "Nonsense," she said firmly. "It will be worth it to have your discretion." His scowl deepened. "My clients always have my discretion.
Sabrina Jeffries (A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5))
I wanted to apologize.” His gaze lifted from her bosom. He remembered those breasts in his hands. “For what?” “For deceiving you as I did. I misunderstood the nature of our relationship and behaved like a spoiled little girl. It was a terrible mistake and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” A terrible mistake? A mistake to be sure, but terrible? “There is nothing to forgive,” he replied with a tight smile. “We were both at fault.” “Yes,” she agreed with a smile of her own. “You are right. Can we be friends again?” “We never stopped.” At least that much was true. He might have played the fool, might have taken advantage of her, but he never ceased caring for her. He never would. Rose practically sighed in relief. Grey had to struggle to keep his eyes on her face. “Good. I’m so glad you feel that way. Because I do so want your approval when I find the man I’m going to marry.” Grey’s lips seized, stuck in a parody of good humor. “The choice is ultimately yours, Rose.” She waved a gloved hand. “Oh, I know that, but your opinion meant so much to Papa, and since he isn’t here to guide me, I would be so honored if you would accept that burden as well as the others you’ve so obligingly undertaken.” Help her pick a husband? Was this some kind of cruel joke? What next, did she want his blessing? She took both of his hands in hers. “I know this is rather premature, but next to Papa you have been the most important man in my life. I wonder…” She bit her top lip. “If you would consider acting in Papa’s stead and giving me away when the time comes?” He’d sling her over his shoulder and run her all the way to Gretna Green if it meant putting an end to this torture! “I would be honored.” He made the promise because he knew whomever she married wouldn’t allow him to keep it. No man in his right mind would want Grey at his wedding, let along handling his bride. Was it relief or consternation that lit her lovely face? “Oh, good. I was afraid perhaps you wouldn’t, given your fear of going out into society.” Grey scowled. Fear? Back to being a coward again was he? “Whatever gave you that notion?” She looked genuinely perplexed. “Well, the other day Kellan told me how awful your reputation had become before your attack. I assumed your shame over that to be why you avoid going out into public now.” “You assume wrong.” He'd never spoken to her with such a cold tone in all the years he'd known her. "I had no idea your opinion of me had sunk so low. And as one who has also been bandied about by gossips I would think you would know better than to believe everything you hear, no matter how much you might like the source." Now she appeared hurt. Doe-like eyes widened. "My opinion of you is as high as it ever was! I'm simply trying to say that I understand why you choose to hide-" "You think I'm hiding?" A vein in his temple throbbed. Innocent confusion met his gaze. "Aren't you?" "I avoid society because I despise it," he informed her tightly. "I would have thought you'd know that about me after all these years." She smiled sweetly. "I think my recent behavior has proven that I don't know you that well at all. After all, I obviously did not achieve my goal in seducing you, did I?" Christ Almighty. The girl knew how to turn his world arse over appetite. "There's no shame in being embarrassed, Grey. I know you regret the past, and I understand how difficult it would be for you to reenter society with that regret handing over you head." "Rose, I am not embarrassed, and I am not hiding. I shun society because I despise it. I hate the false kindness and the rules and the hypocrisy of it. Do you understand what I am saying? It is because of society that I have this." He pointed at the side of his face where the ragged scar ran.
Kathryn Smith (When Seducing a Duke (Victorian Soap Opera, #1))
These names of virtues, with their precepts, were: 1.​TEMPERANCE.—Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2.​SILENCE.—Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3.​ORDER.—Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4.​RESOLUTION.—Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5.​FRUGALITY.—Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6.​INDUSTRY.—Lose no time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7.​SINCERITY.—Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8.​JUSTICE.—Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9.​MODERATION.—Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10.​CLEANLINES.—Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloths, or habitation. 11.​TRANQUILLITY.—Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12.​CHASTITY.—Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation. 13.​HUMILITY.—Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Benjamin Franklin (Benjamin Franklin: The Autobiography)
I don't even care about what other would think about me at all. I am not searching for girlfriend in order to explain, I am a science lover and I see everything in terms of science i have explanations for anything through science. I know traditional and so called highly respectful spiritualism with Vedas and all religious texts, But If i choose that path many of you will not exist at all. That is the fact and I don't want to end the universe with so many beautiful stories to hear, although this world is filled with bad people there are N number of good people also there, so If I choose completely traditional spiritual path many will die, this world population will become half. For example If i enter Nalanda again think about the consequences but I love Nalanda always. I will definitely enter science but where? I will think about it after 20th march. My reputation starts only if I meet a right girl then If she is correct always and even sit and talk with me at least, then I will stop watching porn. But you know what so far only few girls were able to sit and talk with me directly all other girls I have seen so far, are just they look at me and terrify and fly away. So first sit and talk with me if you can. Be ready to answer my questions, if you want me to be your friend. You can not even handle 5 minutes. That is why I am saying this it is better that I am being single and go to science.
Ganapathy K
I really believed that computers were deterministic, that you could understand what they were supposed to do, and that there was no excuse for computers not working, for things not functioning properly. In retrospect, I was surprisingly good at keeping the system running, putting in new code and having it not break the system. That was the first instance of something I got an undeserved reputation for. I know that my boss, and probably some other of my colleagues, have said I was a great debugger. And that's partly true. But there's a fake in there. Really what I was was a very careful programmer with the arrogance to believe that very few computer programs are inherently difficult. I would take some piece of code that didn't look like it was working and I would try to read it. And if I could understand, then I could usually see what was wrong or poke around with it and fix it. But sometimes I would get a piece of code—often one that other people couldn't make work—and I would say, “This is way too complicated.” So I would think through what it was supposed to do, throw it away, and write it again from scratch. Some of the folks I worked with—like Will Crowther—who are terrific programmers, couldn't tolerate that. They would believe that by doing that, I would probably have fixed the 2 bugs that were there and introduced 27 new bugs. But the fact is, I was good at that. So I would rewrite stuff completely and it would be organized differently than the original programmer had organized it because I had thought about the problem differently. Typically, it was simpler than it used to be, or at least simpler to my eyes. And it would work. So I got this reputation—I fixed these mysterious bugs that nobody else could fix. Fortunately, they never asked me what the bug was. Because the truth of the matter is if they'd have asked, “How did you fix the bug?” my answer would have been, “I couldn't understand the code well enough to figure out what it was doing, so I rewrote it.
Peter Seibel (Coders at Work: Reflections on the Craft of Programming)
I really believed that computers were deterministic, that you could understand what they were supposed to do, and that there was no excuse for computers not working, for things not functioning properly. In retrospect, I was surprisingly good at keeping the system running, putting in new code and having it not break the system. That was the first instance of something I got an undeserved reputation for. I know that my boss, and probably some other of my colleagues, have said I was a great debugger. And that's partly true. But there's a fake in there. Really what I was was a very careful programmer with the arrogance to believe that very few computer programs are inherently difficult. I would take some piece of code that didn't look like it was working and I would try to read it. And if I could understand, then I could usually see what was wrong or poke around with it and fix it. But sometimes I would get a piece of code—often one that other people couldn't make work—and I would say, “This is way too complicated.” So I would think through what it was supposed to do, throw it away, and write it again from scratch. Some of the folks I worked with—like Will Crowther—who are terrific programmers, couldn't tolerate that. They would believe that by doing that, I would probably have fixed the 2 bugs that were there and introduced 27 new bugs. But the fact is, I was good at that. So I would rewrite stuff completely and it would be organized differently than the original programmer had organized it because I had thought about the problem differently. Typically, it was simpler than it used to be, or at least simpler to my eyes. And it would work. So I got this reputation—I fixed these mysterious bugs that nobody else could fix. Fortunately, they never asked me what the bug was. Because the truth of the matter is if they'd have asked, “How did you fix the bug?” my answer would have been, “I couldn't understand the code well enough to figure out what it was doing, so I rewrote it.” I did that a lot on the PDP-1 time-sharing system. There were chunks of the code that I would read and would say, “This doesn't do what I think this part of the program is supposed to be doing,” or “It's weird.” So I'd rewrite it. The only thing that kept me working there, with that attitude, was that I had a good track record. That's one of the things, that if you're not good at it, you make chaos. But if you are good at it, the world thinks that you can do things that you can't, really.
Peter Seibel (Coders at Work: Reflections on the Craft of Programming)
Lord, by faith here’s what I’m doing right now to prepare myself for the coming day. I’m putting on the belt of truth. I ask You to make it very clear to me what I am to accept into my life and what I am to reject. Help me to see clearly the motives of others as they deal with me and converse with me. Let me walk in Your truth, making decisions and choices according to Your plans and purposes for my life. I am putting on the breastplate of righteousness. Guard my emotions today. Protect my heart. Help me to take into my life only the things that are pure, and nothing that is poison or polluting. Help me to live in integrity and to have a reputation based upon doing, saying, believing, thinking, and feeling the right things. Help me to live in right relationship with You every moment of this coming day. I am putting on my spiritual boots. Help me to stand and walk in Your peace and to move forward in ways that bring Your peace and love to others. Help me to have the full confidence and assurance that come from knowing that I am filled with the peace that only You can give to those who are Your children. Help me to be a peacemaker. Show me where to walk and how to walk as You would walk. I am picking up the shield of faith. Help me to trust You to be my Victor in every area of life today. Help me to trust You to defend me, provide for me, and keep me in safety every hour of this day. I am putting on my helmet of salvation. Guard my mind today. Bring to my remembrance all that You have done for me as my Savior. Let me live in the hope and confidence that You are saving me—rescuing me and delivering me—from evil. I am picking up my sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. Bring to my remembrance today the verses of the Bible that I have read and memorized, and help me to apply them to the situations and circumstances I will face. Let me use Your Word to bring Your light into the darkness of this world and to defeat the devil when he comes to tempt me. Father, I want to be fully clothed with the identity of Jesus Christ today. I am in Christ. He is in me. Help me to fully realize and accept that He is my Truth, my Righteousness, my Peace, my Savior, the source of my faith, and the ever-present Lord of my life. I want to bring glory to Your name today. I ask all of this in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Charles F. Stanley (When the Enemy Strikes)
He considered accordingly that he was not able to conquer it by any means other than if he should mutilate himself and desert to their side. So, counting himself little, he maltreated his own body in a manner which could not be cured; for he cut off his nose and his ears, and shaved his hair round in an unseemly way, and scourged himself, and so entered the presence of Darius. And Darius was distraught when he saw the man of most repute with him thus maltreated; and leaping up from his seat he cried aloud and asked him who was the person who had mutilated him, and for what deed. He replied: “That man does not exist, except you, who has so great power as to bring me into this condition; and not any stranger, 0 king, has done this, but I myself to myself, accounting it a very grievous thing that the Assyrians should mock the Persians.” He replied: “You most reckless of men, you set the fairest name to the foulest deed when you said that on account of those who are besieged you did bring yourself into a condition which cannot be cured. How, 0 senseless one, will the enemy surrender to “us more quickly, because you have mutilated yourself? Surely you were out of your mind in thus destroying yourself.” And he said, “If I had communicated to you that which I was about to do, you would not have permitted me to do it; but as it was, I did it on my own account. Now therefore, unless something is wanting on your part, we shall conquer Babylon: for I shall go straightway as a deserter to the wall; and I shall say to them that I suffered this treatment at your hands: and I think that when I have convinced them that this is so, I shall obtain the command of a part of their forces.
Herodotus (The Histories)
Text, emails, and other forms of electronic media are the most popular forms of communication now. However, they also tend to be the most problematic right now. You might be surprised at how entire relationships can be ruined just because of one poorly worded tweet or status update. Even entire careers and reputations went down in flames because of the things those people said online. What you have to remember is that text has two disadvantages. First, it cannot carry the subtler elements of communications like nuance, context, and even sarcasm. Second, it has an element of perpetuity to it, so anything poorly-worded you say now will come back to haunt you in a few weeks or years. The strategy here, then, is to think before you click. Make sure that your choice of words have been thoroughly thought out and your overall message leaves no room for interpretation, especially negative ones.
James W. Williams (Communication Skills Training: How to Talk to Anyone, Connect Effortlessly, Develop Charisma, and Become a People Person)
There are a lot of mantras going around these days about how “other people’s feelings about you are none of your business.” There are mantras about not owning the feelings of others, or about not having to apologize. I get it. As a lifelong codependent I can see where I have spent way too many hours worrying about what others think or if someone is upset with me. I don’t think we need to concern ourselves with the opinions or feelings of every person we know. We don’t need to morph ourselves into being liked by everyone. However, I do want my kids to be concerned with how they are making the people in their inner circle feel. I don’t want them to have an entitled self-esteem that is unable to consider feedback. If their younger sibling feels they are a bully, I want them to be concerned with that. If their reputation among their close friends is for being a backstabbing mean girl, I want them to be concerned with that. We should all be mindful of how the trusted people in our inner circle experience us, because sometimes we need that mirror to see ourselves clearly.
Kristen Howerton (Rage Against the Minivan: Learning to Parent Without Perfection)
An idea has more potential than any theory, plan or quantity of knowledge. You should never underestimate your dreams and the ideas that form around them. But more importantly, you shouldn't waste any time making them a reality. Others may not agree with your ideas, they may not trust your ideas, and they may even think that it is foolish to follow your dreams, but they don't have to trust something they can't see. Each person is gifted with the dreams that match the soul attracting them and according to the nature of the spiritual path in which one is found, therefore any dream you have is within your reach, and may never be within the reach or the beliefs of others, not even when you fulfill them. When people don't trust your capacities to achieve something, they will also rationalize reasons and excuses after you demonstrate your intent and potential. If you are poor, they may say you can't be rich, and once you are rich, they will try to dissuade you from what you do, with insinuations, insults, and threats. The most common question a rich person is asked, is if he is paying taxes. It is foolish to try to explain anything to those people. I've seen it my entire life, because I have succeeded in many areas where everyone told me I would never succeed. Once you win, they downgrade your achievements with ridiculous theories, or they will simply call you lucky. You can't win in an argument with a fool, because fools are very creative in their own art of denying the being of others. They see the world as they see themselves, as just objects, empty vessels, reflections of the illusions of the outside world. In martial arts, if you beat taller and stronger opponents, they don't say you are a better fighter. They will select one of your movements or techniques as the cause, and then dissociate you from the movement or technique, and say that you won because you cheat in the fighting rules. In music, if you succeed against the best in the world, people won't say you are better than them, but dissociate you from your music and say that you got awarded because you are different in a strange way, or because you competed in a special moment. If you succeed as a writer, people won't say you are a good writer, but instead dissociate you from your books, and say that you invent things and have a big imagination, which is a covert way of calling you a "good liar", thus insulting you under the pretense of giving compliments, or they will say that you stole the knowledge from others, in order to morally place themselves above you and your work, and they may even say that you have a special trick, like taking knowledge from the air, from some imaginary records in the ether, or from demonic spirits. People say different things when dissociating you from your potential, work and achievements, all of which are simply various forms of disrespecting someone. They deny you of your potential to be yourself. And among the various forms of disrespect, making one feel guilty for being himself is probably the worse, reason why you'll find the most disgusting people of them all inside religious organizations. "God won't like it", "You have a problem with your ego", and "The devil is tempting you", are among the most common and imbecile things you will ever hear as an artist, as a person who loves to read and acquire knowledge, and above anything, as a true spiritual being thriving in self-development and a natural curiosity for life. For all these reasons, the requirements and the real theories for success will never be found in any popular book. Nobody wants to know that you only win when you stop burning yourself to make others warm. And when you understand this, people will dissociate you from your focus and discipline, and call you selfish, and they will call the person who guided you in this path of real success evil. They will then do their best to destroy the reputation of both of you to deny their own fault , ignorance and lies.
Dan Desmarques
An idea has more potential than any theory, plan or quantity of knowledge. You should never underestimate your dreams and the ideas that form around them. But more importantly, you shouldn't waste any time making them a reality. Others may not agree with your ideas, they may not trust your ideas, and they may even think that it is foolish to follow your dreams, but they don't have to trust something they can't see. Each person is gifted with the dreams that match the soul attracting them and according to the nature of the spiritual path in which one is found, therefore any dream you have is within your reach, and may never be within the reach of the beliefs of others, not even when you fulfill them. When people don't trust your capacities to achieve something, they will also rationalize reasons and excuses after you demonstrate your intent and potential. If you are poor, they may say you can't be rich, and once you are rich, they will try to dissuade you from what you do, with insinuations, insults, and threats. The most common question a rich person is asked, is if he is paying taxes. It is foolish to try to explain anything to those people. I've seen it my entire life, because I have succeeded in many areas where everyone told me I would never succeed. Once you win, they downgrade your achievements with ridiculous theories, or they will simply call you lucky. You can't win in an argument with a fool, because fools are very creative in their own art of denying the being of others. They see the world as they see themselves, as just objects, empty vessels, reflections of the illusions on the outside world. In martial arts, if you beat taller and stronger opponents, they don't say you are a better fighter. They will select one of your movements or techniques as the cause, and then dissociate you from the movement or technique, and say that you win because you cheat in the fighting rules. In music, if you succeed against the best in the world, people won't say you are better than them, but dissociate you from your music and say that you got awarded because you are different in a strange way, or because you competed in a special moment. If you succeed as a writer, people won't say you are a good writer, but instead dissociate you from your books, and say that you invent things and have a big imagination, which is a covert way of calling you a "good liar", thus insulting you under the pretense of giving compliments, or they will say that you stole the knowledge from others, in order to morally place themselves above you and your work, and they may even say that you have a special trick, like taking knowledge from the air, from some imaginary records in the ether, or from demonic spirits. People say different things when dissociating you from your potential, work and achievements, all of which are simply various forms of disrespecting someone. They deny you of your potential to be yourself. And among the various forms of disrespect, making one feel guilty for being himself is probably the worse, reason why you'll find the most disgusting people of them all inside religious organizations. "God won't like it", "You have a problem with your ego", and "The devil is tempting you", are among the most common and imbecile things you will ever hear as an artist, as a person who loves to read and acquire knowledge, and above anything, as a true spiritual being thriving in self-development and a natural curiosity for life. For all these reasons, the requirements and the real theories for success will never be found in any popular book. Nobody wants to know that you only win when you stop burning yourself to make others warm. And when you understand this, people will dissociate you from your focus and discipline, and call you selfish, and they will call the person who guided you in this path of real success evil. They will then do their best to destroy the reputation of both of your to deny their own fault , ignorance and lies.
Dan Desmarques
Many conservatives today fail to grasp the gravity of this threat, dismissing it as mere “political correctness”—a previous generation’s disparaging term for so-called “wokeness.” It’s easy to dismiss people like the former Soviet professor as hysterical if you think of what’s happening today as nothing more than the return of the left-wing campus kookiness of the 1990s. Back then, the standard conservative response was dismissive. Wait till those kids get out into the real world and have to find a job. Well, they did—and they brought the campus to corporate America, to the legal and medical professions, to media, to elementary and secondary schools, and to other institutions of American life. In this cultural revolution, which intensified in the spring and summer of 2020, they are attempting to turn the entire country into a “woke” college campus. Today in our societies, dissenters from the woke party line find their businesses, careers, and reputations destroyed. They are pushed out of the public square, stigmatized, canceled, and demonized as racists, sexists, homophobes, and the like. And they are afraid to resist, because they are confident that no one will join them or defend them.
Rod Dreher (Live Not by Lies: A Manual for Christian Dissidents)
are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
James Kerr (Legacy)
There can be little dispute about purchasing luxury real estate miami investing. If you are one of the latter, this post is meant for you. You need to set up either an LLC or a comparable entity as soon as you think you're going to get into genuine estate investing. This shields you and expertly. It can likewise assist you with specific tax concerns. Constantly look for out exactly what the regional values. Discovering the next-door neighbors are and whether they have or lease can inform you more about a house's value than the monetary statements. Discover individuals included in genuine estate investing and find out from them. There are a lot of individuals interested in genuine estate. Get to understand various other financiers in genuine estate. It pays to have a lot about genuine estate financier buddies. Issues with renters can squander a lot of time. If you envisioning to lease a home, display your prospective renters very carefully. If they cannot get their cash together at this time, they aren't a reputable bet for you. When thinking about exactly how much a home is worth, think about rental values as you identify exactly how much you'll make off of lease. This can permit you a lot of dollars throughout the course of the year from individuals who are remaining in your location. When you're all set and make a substantially bigger gross earnings, you can still offer the house. Do not purchase homes in an area that's bad. A great offer might suggest that it's in a bad location. It might take a longer time than you expected for your first great genuine estate offer. Do not fret; simply bide your time and the best situations. Area is the critical part of realty. Consider the future and the place. If you understand the area, this will be advantageous to you. Since it will be in the location, you will not be stressing about some faraway rental home. If you live close by, you will have much better control of your financial investment. You might discover it simple to cut corners when it comes to accounting, particularly when you initially get begun. You will conserve yourself a lot of headache later on if you begin developing great accounting routines. Do some study on the city's government prior to you invest in genuine estate. Many towns have a main site that can be discovered with an easy search. If you wish to make money from the amazing world of realty investing, why not start today? Now that you're more notified, you can begin investing! Keep this details useful and begin the trip to success. When you think you're going to get into genuine estate investing, you must set up either an LLC or a comparable entity. Get to understand various other financiers in genuine estate. It pays to have a lot about genuine estate financier pals. It might take a longer time than you expected for your first excellent genuine estate offer. If you want to benefit from the incredible world of genuine estate investing, why not get begun today?
Purchasing Realty Exactly what Every Financier Ought to Know
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.” - John Wooden
Charlie Houpert (Attract Women: The Anti Pick Up Line: (Real Habits To Naturally Attract Stunning Women))
Now, I’ve got a few things to say. You’re on your way to First Phase, so make me proud of you. After Hell Week, those of you who survive will still have to face the scuba pool comps in Second Phase and weapons practicals in Third Phase. I’ll want to shake your hand at graduation. When you get there, I want to think of you as one of Reno’s warriors.” There’s another roar from the class. Reno is very popular with Class 228. While he has frequently made them suffer, the trainees know that Reno and the other Indoc instructors have tried to give them what they need to survive in First Phase. “Be on time. Be alert. Be accountable for your actions in and out of uniform. You officers, look out for your men and your men will look out for you. Your reputation is everything in the teams. Remember this if you remember nothing else. For each of you, a chance to build on that reputation begins on Monday morning at zero five hundred in First Phase.” He looks around the class; every eye is on him. “For those of you who do get to the teams, I want you to take this on board. The guys in the teams are a brotherhood. You’ll be closer to them than you ever were to your friends in high school or college. You’ll live with them on deployment and some of you may even die with them in combat. But never, ever forget your family. Family comes before teammates. Most of us will grow old and die in bed, and the only people who will be there to help us die will be our family. Put your family first. I want you to never forget that.
Dick Couch (The Warrior Elite: The Forging of SEAL Class 228)
Remember, in terms of ethical turpitude, we lawyers have a very specific reputation on the market, but above and beyond every other shortcoming, even the most despicable kinds of self-interest, what we are is gossips. We're worse than shampooists, worse than concierges, worse than journalists, worse than body-builders, worse than university professors, worse than elementary school janitors, worse than barbers, worse than politicians, worse than neighborhood poets, worse than lifeguards. Name any other category or profession you can think of: we're worse. Diego De Silva I Hadn't Understood
Diego De Silva
Who you going to call when it looks like you’re really going to have to survive the zombie apocalypse? I knew exactly who to call. ‘Ted, you know how you complained that I had a zombie apocalypse and didn’t invite you?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Consider yourself invited.’ He gave a small chuckle, the way some men will do when you say something sexy. ‘You’re excited. After what we saw in the hospital and the basement you’re excited about this,’ I said. ‘Yeah, I am.’ ‘There’s something wrong with you, you do know that, right?’ I said, and laughed. ‘Yeah, I do know.’ ‘And, Ted?’ ‘Yes, Anita.’ ‘Bring your flamethrower.’ He gave that excited sex chuckle again. ‘For real, you’re not just teasing this time?’ ‘Zombie reports from all over the area and it’s still daylight. It’s just going to get worse after dark.’ He gave that low, deep laugh again. ‘You say the best things.’ ‘Conversations like this is one of the reasons people think we’re doing each other.’ ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Someone on your end of the phone said something you didn’t like about us, or me, and you’re rubbing their face in it.’ ‘Would I do that?’ The words were innocent; the tone was not. Someone must have done something that truly pissed him off for him to play into it like this, because he knew it hurt my reputation worse than his. ‘Get here as soon as you can, and let me know which of the guys with you pissed you off and I’ll help you play with him, between killing zombies.’ ‘You sweet-talking thing, you,’ he said. That made me laugh. We hung up with both of us laughing. There were so many reasons that Edward and I were friends.
Laurell K. Hamilton (Affliction (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter #22))
What kept me running? That’s the question I keep returning to, the lock I keep fiddling with. I was highly invested in maintaining my reputation as a very capable person. I thought that how other people felt about me or thought about me could determine my happiness. When I see that on the page now, staring back at me in black and white, I see how deeply flawed this idea is, how silly even. But this is what I’ve learned the hard way: what people think about you means nothing in comparison to what you believe about yourself. Essentially, my identity then depended on outward approval, which changes on a dime. So you dance and you please and you placate and you prove. You become a three-ring circus and in each ring you’re an entirely different performing animal, anything anyone wants you to be. The crucial journey, then, for me, has been from dependence on external expectations, down into my own self, deeper still into God’s view of me,
Shauna Niequist (Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic for a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living)
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are. —John Wooden   FOR
Aleatha Romig (The Consequences Series: Part 1 (Consequences, #1-3))
My first kiss. That was my first kiss. And he’s a duke. I just kissed a duke. And I didn’t even see it coming. I’d always imagined this slow-motion, front porch, end-of-the-first-date sort of thing. The anticipation, the nerves. But it was just…sudden and unexpected. This is insane. “Something wrong?” she says, her hazel eyes soft and expressive, as if I’m about to unload the weight of the world and she’ll gladly bear it all. “I--I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with your cousin. Everything he’s done up until now…and then…I just can’t figure out who he is, that’s all.” She just smiles and waits, like she knows I’ll continue once I figure out what I want to say. “It’s just…at the dance at the Pommeroy’s, he tried to tell this other titled guy that I wasn’t good enough to dance with. He told the guy he should dance with a lady instead. Like I’m not worthy or something because I’m just some commoner.” Emily furrows her brow. “That is quite unlike him. I’m sure he meant no harm.” “But it was just so pompous, and every time I think maybe he deserves a chance or something, I think about it again and realize what a jerk he’s been. Why would he tell Lord Brimmon I’m not good enough?” Her head snaps around and she looks at me. “’Twas Lord Brimmon?” I nod and narrow my eyes at Emily’s reaction. “Why does it matter who it was?” Emily hesitates. “Tell me,” I say. “Brimmon’s known as a rake at best and a scoundrel at worst. If Alex was trying to talk him out of dancing with you, it was for the sake of your reputation, not his.” My jaw drops. Could that be true? Could I have been wrong about him? Sigh. I’ve gotten nothing right in 1815. Nothing. I’ve been judging him for that comment since the moment he made it. “So…it had nothing to do with me not being good enough?” Emily laughs. “Oh, heavens, no. You’re his guest. How could that be true?” “Oh…But then he was saying he’d dance with me because it was expected. Because I was his guest, he would do it out of duty. He acted like it was a chore.” Emily looks downright amused. “Harksbury has hosted many guests. Alex danced with precisely one of them: you.” “Oh.” I stare down at my hands and try to suppress the urge to grin, but I can’t stop it. It spreads until I’m beaming. Alex danced with me because he wanted to. Not because he had to. Is it really possible there’s more to him than I thought? “Well now I’ve screwed everything up…” I trail off. I don’t think I can admit to the botched kiss moment with Alex. “He’s going to think I’m a total freak.” She furrows her brow. I don’t know if she’s wondering what’s gone on between Alex and me, or what a freak is. “I am certain he would not think such a thing.” I wish I could believe her. But I know the truth: there’s no way Alex is ever going to kiss me again. No matter how much I want it.
Mandy Hubbard (Prada & Prejudice)
To believe that you can be captain of your own life is to suffer the sin of pride. What is pride? These days the word “pride” has positive connotations. It means feeling good about yourself and the things associated with you. When we use it negatively, we think of the arrogant person, someone who is puffed up and egotistical, boasting and strutting about. But that is not really the core of pride. That is just one way the disease of pride presents itself. By another definition, pride is building your happiness around your accomplishments, using your work as the measure of your worth. It is believing that you can arrive at fulfillment on your own, driven by your own individual efforts. Pride can come in bloated form. This is the puffed-up Donald Trump style of pride. This person wants people to see visible proof of his superiority. He wants to be on the VIP list. In conversation, he boasts, he brags. He needs to see his superiority reflected in other people’s eyes. He believes that this feeling of superiority will eventually bring him peace. That version is familiar. But there are other proud people who have low self-esteem. They feel they haven’t lived up to their potential. They feel unworthy. They want to hide and disappear, to fade into the background and nurse their own hurts. We don’t associate them with pride, but they are still, at root, suffering from the same disease. They are still yoking happiness to accomplishment; it’s just that they are giving themselves a D– rather than an A+. They tend to be just as solipsistic, and in their own way as self-centered, only in a self-pitying and isolating way rather than in an assertive and bragging way. One key paradox of pride is that it often combines extreme self-confidence with extreme anxiety. The proud person often appears self-sufficient and egotistical but is really touchy and unstable. The proud person tries to establish self-worth by winning a great reputation, but of course this makes him utterly dependent on the gossipy and unstable crowd for his own identity. The proud person is competitive. But there are always other people who might do better. The most ruthlessly competitive person in the contest sets the standard that all else must meet or get left behind. Everybody else has to be just as monomaniacally driven to success. One can never be secure. As Dante put it, the “ardor to outshine / Burned in my bosom with a kind of rage.
David Brooks (The Road to Character)
Amy, I er . . . that is to say, what happened between us yesterday has been preying on my mind, and my conscience.  I hope I did not hurt you." "Oh, no, Charles.  Not at all —" "As you know, I pride myself on my conduct, my restraint, my treatment of others, and yesterday — well, yesterday I was not myself.  I don't know what or who I was, but I was certainly not the man I am accustomed to being."  He reached up, searching the empty space above him until he found her face, and let his fingers graze her cheek.  "Forgive me, Amy.  I am making excuses for behavior that cannot be excused.  Allow me to get straight to the point."  He trailed his fingers down her neck, the outside of her arm, then found and raised her hand to his lips.  "I have done you a terrible dishonor, and though I confess my intentions are based more on duty, fairness, and a care for your own future and reputation as opposed to any romantic inclinations I may feel toward you, I know, nevertheless, that I must ask." "Ask what?"  She sounded genuinely confused. "Drat it, girl, what do you think?" he asked, trying to keep the frustration and impatience from his voice.  And then, steeling himself:  "For your hand in marriage." "Marriage?!"  She nearly dropped him.  "Good heavens, Charles, you can't be serious, I'm the very last person on earth you should consider marrying.  You should go home to Katharine Farnsley, you should try to win back Juliet, you should find yourself some genteel English bride who'll do your name and rank justice."  She gave a nervous little laugh.  "Marry me?  How silly.  You cannot marry me!" "I certainly can, if you'll have me." "No, I will not have you.  Please don't be angry with me, Charles, but I know you're only offering this because you're a gentleman and feel guilty about what happened yesterday, but if I accept then I'll feel guilty as well, and then there'll be two of us feeling guilty, and that just won't do.  Don't you see?  Oh no, Charles.  You're very kind for asking, and thank you for it, but I cannot marry you, I simply cannot." "Amy, you are babbling." "You've flustered me!" "I am quite serious about this." "And so am I, Charles, truly I am!  But your heart isn't in this.  You're only trying to make amends, but really, you don't have to, I don't expect you to, I don't want you to.  Besides, you don't love me; you still love Juliet, and to marry me . . .  well, that just wouldn't feel right.
Danelle Harmon (The Beloved One (The De Montforte Brothers, #2))
Be more concerned with your character than with your reputation. Your character is what you really are while your reputation is merely what others think you are.” ‒ John Wooden Quote
Michael Miller (Positive Thinking Quotes: 365 Inspirational, Affirmations and Success Quotes to Change Your Brain Change Your Life)
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.” —JOHN WOODEN
Anthony Robbins (Awaken the Giant Within: How to Take Immediate Control of Your Mental, Emotional, Physical and Financial Destiny!)
We are from Stone age, Bronze age and Iron age, but now I think we are in the doomed age. We are too quick to cancel other people in life as if we are not making mistakes of our own. We are too quick to ruin someone's life and bring others down. We are too quick to insult others and cyber bully them. We are not afraid to lie just to destroy others image or reputation. We are doing everything for clout, even it means destroying everyone's happiness and life. We promote hate and division . We rejoice when others fail, lose their jobs, lose what they worked hard for or accomplished. When they divorce or go through hard times or heartbreak. We laugh when others are not making it in life and are experiencing pain. We do all this In the name of poverty, that we are also suffering. I just hope you will chose to differ. I just hope you will treat people the same way you want to be treated in this doomed internet age.
De philosopher DJ Kyos
If everyone who compromised with Galdran out of fear, or greed, or even indifference, were to be penalized,” Shevraeth went on, “Athanarel would soon be empty and a lot of people sent home with little to do but use their wealth and power toward recovering their lost prestige.” “More war,” I said, and thinking again of my secret cause, I ventured a question. “Do you agree with Mistress Ynizang’s writings about the troubles overseas and how they could have been avoided?” Shevraeth nodded, turning to me. “That’s an excellent book--one of the first my parents put into my hands when it became apparent I was serious about entering their plans.” “What’s this? Who?” Bran asked, looking from one of us to the other. Shevraeth said, “She is a historian of great repute in the Empress’s Court, and I believe what she says about letting social custom and the human habit of inertia bridge an old regime to a new, when there is no active evil remaining.” “Sounds dull as a hibernating snake. Saving your grace.” Bran saluted the Marquis with his glass, then said, “Tell my sister about the army.” Shevraeth saluted my brother with his own glass and a slightly mocking smile. “To resume: Dispersal and reassignment. I have relied heavily upon certain officers whom I have come to trust--” “Which is why you were up here against us last winter, eh?” Bran asked, one brow cocked up. “Scouting out the good ones?” Old anger stirred deep inside me as I remembered the common talk from a year ago, about Shevraeth’s very public wager with the Duke of Savona about how soon he could thoroughly squelch the rustic Tlanth’s--meaning Branaric and me. Fighting down my emotions, I realized that yet again I had been misled by surface events--and again I had misjudged Shevraeth’s true motives.
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
My body has a mind of its own. Apparently it thinks that “new year” is synonymous with “exercise program,” and has been attempting to coerce me into one. Right. Like shifting from one side of the couch to the other isn’t work. “Hey! What about ME?” it asked. “Hello! Down here! The attachment to your neck that is beginning to resemble a marshmallow? Remember? When are we going to join a gym? A girl your age has a lot more than just a reputation to uphold, you know - your butt springs to mind! So when’s it going to be? Huh? Huh?” “Hmmm,” I answered thoughtfully. “How about never? Is never good for you?” “Yeah, ya big coward. That’s the thanks I get for silently squeezing into those jeans all these months? I knew you were a weenie.” “I have a black belt, I’ll have you know!” I retorted. “You might want to show a little respect! There was a day when the only ripples on my body were the ones defining my abdomen!” “‘Ooh, look at me, I’m a martial artist!’ Well, Jean-Claude Van Flab, let’s invite reality in for some tea, shall we? That day was FOUR YEARS AGO. Those laurels you’re resting on are becoming a little more than figurative. People are gonna start calling you ‘Baggie’!” “My, but you’ve gotten cocky in your old age,” I responded, “considering I’M STILL THE BOSS. I own you. You’re mine.” “Gee, boss, I hate to shatter your delusions of adequacy,” it shot back, “but your employee is revolting - and you can take THAT any way you want.” I looked down and sighed. It had a point.
Maggie Lamond Simone (From Beer to Maternity)
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.” ~John Wooden
Orly Wahba (Kindness Boomerang: How to Save the World (and Yourself) Through 365 Daily Acts)
Reputation is not, in fact, the most important thing. As famed UCLA basketball coach John Wooden once explained: “Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
Cliff Sims (Team of Vipers: My 500 Extraordinary Days in the Trump White House)
habit Phil Ivey is one of those guys who can easily admit when he could have done better. Ivey is one of the world’s best poker players, a player almost universally admired by other professional poker players for his exceptional skill and confidence in his game. Starting in his early twenties, he built a reputation as a top cash-game player, a top tournament player, a top heads-up player, a top mixed-game player—a top player in every form and format of poker. In a profession where, as I’ve explained, most people are awash in self-serving bias, Phil Ivey is an exception. In 2004, my brother provided televised final-table commentary for a tournament in which Phil Ivey smoked a star-studded final table. After his win, the two of them went to a restaurant for dinner, during which Ivey deconstructed every potential playing error he thought he might have made on the way to victory, asking my brother’s opinion about each strategic decision. A more run-of-the-mill player might have spent the time talking about how great they played, relishing the victory. Not Ivey. For him, the opportunity to learn from his mistakes was much more important than treating that dinner as a self-satisfying celebration. He earned a half-million dollars and won a lengthy poker tournament over world-class competition, but all he wanted to do was discuss with a fellow pro where he might have made better decisions. I heard an identical story secondhand about Ivey at another otherwise celebratory dinner following one of his now ten World Series of Poker victories. Again, from what I understand, he spent the evening discussing in intricate detail with some other pros the points in hands where he could have made better decisions. Phil Ivey, clearly, has different habits than most poker players—and most people in any endeavor—in how he fields his outcomes.
Annie Duke (Thinking in Bets: Making Smarter Decisions When You Don't Have All the Facts)
I can never be in charge of how other people are going to perceive me, because that’s their opinion and they’re entitled to it. Again, I can’t control that. The only thing I can control is my character, which comes from my thoughts and the love I have inside, not my reputation and what other people think of me.
Wayne W. Dyer (Happiness Is the Way)
THE ABRIDGED RULES OF CIVILITY NUMBER RULE 2 When in Company, put not your Hands to any Part of the Body, not usualy Discovered. 7 Put not off your Cloths in the presence of Others, nor go out your Chambers half Drest. 24 Do not laugh too loud or too much at any Publick [Spectacle]. 54 Play not the Peacock, looking every where about you, to See if you be well Deck’t, if your Shoes fit well if your Stockings sit neatly, and Cloths handsomely. 56 Associate yourself with Men of good Quality if you Esteem your own Reputation; for ’tis better to be alone than in bad Company. 73 Think before you Speak pronounce not imperfectly nor bring ou[t] your Words too hastily but orderly & distinctly. 82 Undertake not what you cannot Perform but be Carefull to keep your Promise. 90 Being Set at meal Scratch not neither Spit Cough or blow your Nose except there’s a Necessity for it. 92 Take no Salt or cut Bread with your Knife Greasy. 100 Cleanse not your teeth with the Table Cloth Napkin Fork or Knife but if Others do it let it be done wt. a Pick Tooth.
Alexis Coe (You Never Forget Your First: A Biography of George Washington)
bumped into someone on Bleecker who was beyond the pale. I felt like talking to him so I did. As we talked I kept thinking, But you’re beyond the pale, yet instead of that stopping us from talking we started to talk more and more frantically, babbling like a couple of maniacs about a whole load of things: shame, ruin, public humiliation, the destruction of reputation—that immortal part of oneself—the contempt of one’s wife, one’s children, one’s colleagues, personal pathology, exposure, suicidal ideation, and all that jazz. I thought, Maybe if I am one day totally and finally placed beyond the pale, I, too, might feel curiously free. Of expectation. Of the opinions of others. Of a lot of things. “It’s like prison,” he said, not uncheerfully. “You don’t see anybody and you get a lot of writing done.” If you’re wondering where he would be placed on a badness scale of one to ten, as I understand it he is, by general admission, hovering between a two and a three. He did not have “victims” so much as “annoyed parties.” What if he had had victims? Would I have talked to him then? But surely in that case, in an ideal world—after a trial in court—he would have been sent to a prison, or, if you have more enlightened ideas about both crime and punishment, to a therapeutic facility that helps people not to make victims of their fellow humans. Would I have visited him in prison? Probably not. I can’t drive, and besides I have never volunteered for one of those programs in which sentimental people, under the influence of the Gospels, consider all humans to be essentially victims of one another and of themselves and so go to visit even the worst offenders, bringing them copies of the Gospels and also sweaters they’ve knitted. But that wasn’t the case here. He was beyond the pale, I wasn’t. We said our good-byes and I returned to my tower, keeping away from the window for the afternoon, not being in the mood for either signs or arrows. I didn’t know where I was on the scale back then (last week). I was soon to find out. Boy, was I soon to find out. But right now, in the present I’m telling you about, I saw through a glass, darkly. Like you, probably. Like a lot of people.
Zadie Smith (Grand Union)
I bumped into someone on Bleecker who was beyond the pale. I felt like talking to him so I did. As we talked I kept thinking, But you’re beyond the pale, yet instead of that stopping us from talking we started to talk more and more frantically, babbling like a couple of maniacs about a whole load of things: shame, ruin, public humiliation, the destruction of reputation—that immortal part of oneself—the contempt of one’s wife, one’s children, one’s colleagues, personal pathology, exposure, suicidal ideation, and all that jazz. I thought, Maybe if I am one day totally and finally placed beyond the pale, I, too, might feel curiously free. Of expectation. Of the opinions of others. Of a lot of things. “It’s like prison,” he said, not uncheerfully. “You don’t see anybody and you get a lot of writing done.” If you’re wondering where he would be placed on a badness scale of one to ten, as I understand it he is, by general admission, hovering between a two and a three. He did not have “victims” so much as “annoyed parties.” What if he had had victims? Would I have talked to him then? But surely in that case, in an ideal world—after a trial in court—he would have been sent to a prison, or, if you have more enlightened ideas about both crime and punishment, to a therapeutic facility that helps people not to make victims of their fellow humans. Would I have visited him in prison? Probably not. I can’t drive, and besides I have never volunteered for one of those programs in which sentimental people, under the influence of the Gospels, consider all humans to be essentially victims of one another and of themselves and so go to visit even the worst offenders, bringing them copies of the Gospels and also sweaters they’ve knitted. But that wasn’t the case here. He was beyond the pale, I wasn’t. We said our good-byes and I returned to my tower, keeping away from the window for the afternoon, not being in the mood for either signs or arrows. I didn’t know where I was on the scale back then (last week). I was soon to find out. Boy, was I soon to find out. But right now, in the present I’m telling you about, I saw through a glass, darkly. Like you, probably. Like a lot of people.
Zadie Smith (Grand Union)
Suddenly Heller turned serious and stepped away from Lawson. He came straight at me—okay, what the hell was he doing?—and I about swallowed my tongue. Heller hugged me like a long-lost brother. “Thank you for protecting my mate,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re welcome. You mean the world to him, you know?” I left it at that because, really, what more was there to say? “Yeah, I do know. Now he needs to know.” Heller stepped back from me, then turned around to face Lawson. Then he went down on one knee. Lawson gasped, Remi thrust his fist in the air and yelled, “Yes,” and I rolled my eyes. Of course, that was more for show than anything. I did have a reputation to keep up “Lawson?” Heller held his hand out to Lawson, who took it. “You’re my everything, but I’ve told you that. My life would be… would be incomplete without you. You’re my mate—my one and only. What I haven’t done is tell you that… that… I love you, and I don’t know why I haven’t. I think… no, I know I fell in love with you the moment I looked into those beautiful gunmetal-gray eyes of yours at your shop.” “Jesus, Heller,” Lawson gasped. Heller pulled a small box out of his front pocket. “Shifters don’t marry… not like humans. Sometimes we have to shift with next to no warning, so we don’t wear jewelry.” “But… you don’t shift, and being part human, I guessed marriage means a lot to you. It does, right?” Lawson wiped his eyes. “Oh God, yes, it does. Especially since now gays can marry.” “Will… will you wear my ring? Will you… will you wear it so the whole world can see that you’re taken?” “Fuck.” Lawson dropped to his knees and threw his arms around Heller, sobbing into his neck. “Dammit, hellcat! I love you. I love you so much.” Lawson pulled back to look at Heller. “Yes, yes, I will wear your ring. Oh my God, you’re unbelievable! Put it on me!” Remi eased his arm around me and rested his head on my shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I turned my head and kissed his hair. “They worked hard for this.” “Yes, they did. How many times do you think he rehearsed this speech?” “At least ten.” After a passionate kiss I thought I might have to break up before they set the rug on fire, the four of us munched on goodies, drank a couple of beers, and spent what was left of the evening watching movies. Things were going exceptionally well. I couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop
M.A. Church (It Takes Two to Tango (Fur, Fangs, and Felines #3))
1. Temperance. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation. 3. Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time. 4. Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve. 5. Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. Industry. Lose no time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. Moderation. Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation. 11. Tranquillity. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable. 12. Chastity. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation. 13. Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Benjamin Franklin (The Complete Harvard Classics)
Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve"-was one of the rules for success framed by America's first "self-made" man.  These names of virtues, with their precepts, were: 1. TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.    2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.    3. ORDER. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.    4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.    5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i. e., waste nothing.    6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.    7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.    8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.    9. MODERATION. Avoid extreams; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.    10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.    11. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.    12. CHASTITY. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.    13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.
Charles Eliot (The Harvard Classics in a Year: A Liberal Education in 365 Days)
Reputation is what others think of you, but character is what God thinks of you.
Rob Ketterling (Thrill Sequence: Living for What Really Matters)
Anna,” he began, but he saw his use of her name made her bristle. “Please sit, and I do mean will you please.” She sat, perched like an errant schoolgirl on the very edge of her chair, back straight, eyes front. “You are scolding me without saying a word,” the earl said on a sigh. “It was just a kiss, Anna, and I had the impression you rather enjoyed it, too.” She looked down, while a blush crept up the side of her neck. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he said with sudden, happy insight. “You could accept my apology and treat me with cheerful condescension, but you enjoyed our kiss.” “My lord,” she said, addressing the hands she fisted in her lap, “can you not accept that were I to encourage your… mischief, I would be courting my own ruin?” “Ruin?” He said with a snort. “Elise will be enjoying an entire estate for the rest of her days as a token of ruin at my hands—among others—if ruin you believe it to be. I did not take her virginity, either, Mrs. Seaton, and I am not a man who casually discards others.” She was silent then raised her eyes, a mulish expression on her face. “I will not seek another position as a function of what has gone between us so far, but you must stop.” “Stop what, Anna?” “You should not use my name, my lord,” she said, rising. “I have not given you leave to do so.” He rose, as well, as if she were a lady deserving of his manners. “May I ask your permission to use your given name, at least when we are private?” He’d shocked her, he saw with some satisfaction. She’d thought him too autocratic to ask, and he was again reminded of his father’s ways. But she was looking at him now, really looking, and he pressed his advantage. “I find it impossible to think of you as Mrs. Seaton. In this house, there is no other who treats me as you do, Anna. You are kind but honest, and sympathetic without being patronizing. You are the closest thing I have here to an ally, and I would ask this small boon of you.” He watched as she closed her eyes and waged some internal struggle, but in the anguish on her face, he suspected victory in this skirmish was to be his. She’d grant him his request, precisely because he had made it a request, putting a small measure of power exclusively into her hands. She nodded assent but looked miserable over it. “And you,” he said, letting concern—not guilt, surely—show in his gaze, “you must consider me an ally, as well, Anna.” She speared him with a stormy look. “An ally who would compromise my reputation, knowing without it I am but a pauper or worse.” “I do not seek to bring you ruin,” he corrected her. “And I would never force my will on you.” Anna stood, and he thought her eyes were suspiciously bright. “Perhaps, my lord, you just did.” He
Grace Burrowes (The Heir (Duke's Obsession, #1; Windham, #1))
An Unexpected Revelation                 A couple of days after my tryst with Jules, our group, under the auspices of our Portuguese-French instructor, went on a biking expedition. Kim fell alongside my bike when we were trailing behind our group. I detected his intention when he spoke, “How’s it going with you-know-who?”               “Who?” I reprised.               “You know who.”               “No, I don’t.” I feigned ignorance.               “What happened the other night?” the boy responded smirkingly.               “What happened?” I continued my pretense.               “In the forest with Jules,” he muttered.               “We talked.”               He continued to press. “Come on, do tell?”               At that moment, our leader appeared next to us. Jules had turned his bike around to steer us forward. “Tell you what?” he questioned.               “Kim wants to know what happened when we went for a stroll the other night,” I chirped.               Both of their faces turned red by my pronouncement. An awkward silence followed before Jules stuttered, “I… err… was asking Young about his English school education…” he trailed off before motioning us to catch up with the group. As soon as he out of earshot, Kim reproached, “How can you say that?” “Isn’t that what you wanted to know? You may as well hear it from the horse’s mouth,” I sniggered winningly. “It’s so embarrassing. Now I won’t be able to look him in the eye.” “Why not? The two of you haven’t done anything unseemly… what’s with these cat and mouse games?” I tittered. “Why don’t you go after him if you want him so badly?” The boy exclaimed, “He’ll think I’m a slut. My reputation will be ruined.” “Are you going to pine for his affection or make a move? The ball is in your court, now that he has an inkling.” The boy rode ahead, ignoring my sentiment. I shrugged and rejoined the cyclists.
Young (Turpitude (A Harem Boy's Saga Book 4))
Reputation is what other people think of you,” he says. “Character is who you are deep down inside. Stay focused on your character, and your reputation will take care of itself.
Chelle Bliss (Dirty Work (Filthy Politics, #1))
I reach into the hat and pull out a little white slip of paper. I open it slowly while I bite my lower lip in anticipation. In bold letters I read HAND WARMERS. “Hand warmers?” I question. Alex leans over and reads the paper with a confused look on his face. “What the fuck are hand warmers?” Mrs. Peterson shoots Alex a warning glare. “If you’d like to stay after school, I have another blue detention slip on my desk with your name already on it. Now, either ask the question again without using foul language or join me after school.” “That’d be cool to hang with you, Mrs. P., but I’d rather spend the time studyin’ with my chem partner,” Alex responds, then has the nerve to wink at Colin, “so I’ll rephrase the question. What exactly are hand warmers?” “Thermal chemistry, Mr. Fuentes. We use them to warm our hands.” Alex has this big, cocky grin as he turns to me. “I’m sure we can find other things to warm.” “I hate you,” I say loud enough for Colin and the rest of the class to hear. If I sit here and let him get the best of me, I’ll probably hear my mom tsk’ing in my head about reputation meaning everything. I know the class is watching out interaction, even Isabel, who thinks Alex isn’t as bad as everyone thinks he is. Can’t she see him for what he is, or is she blinded by his chiseled face and popular status among their friends? Alex whispers, “There’s a thin line between love and hate. Maybe you’re confusing your emotions.” I scoot away from him. “I wouldn’t bet on it.” “I would.
Simone Elkeles (Perfect Chemistry (Perfect Chemistry, #1))
Just let her move back in with me and I’ll take care of her.” “No.” He frowned at me sternly. “Absolutely not. Didn’t I say she would get no more of your blood?” “What do you care if she takes my blood after Roderick leaves?” I demanded. “I told you it will not happen again. Taylor will not drink from you again. Nor will any other vampire.” I put a hand on my hip. “You’re getting awfully possessive for somebody who’s basically just a business partner.” “I am your master—at least for now.” His eyes blazed silver. “And I have put out the word in Tampa that no other vampire is to touch or taste you in any way. To do so means death and I will not hesitate to enforce that penalty.” “So you put out the word to every vamp on the street that you own me? Thanks a lot, you big asshole,” I stormed. “What do you think that’s going to do to my professional reputation?” “I don’t care what it does to your reputation as long as it keeps you safe,” he replied.
Evangeline Anderson (Crimson Debt (Born to Darkness, #1))
January 28 Wise Words A wise person gets known for insight; gracious words add to one’s reputation. . .They make a lot of sense, these wise folks; whenever they speak, their reputation increases.—Proverbs 16:21, 23 (MSG) Every time I talk with my friend Gloria I wonder, why can’t I say wise things like she does? Gloria is not a real talker, but when she speaks it is certainly worth listening to. Many times I am guilty of being in such a rush to have myself heard that I speak first, and then think. Often I have unfortunate results. How many times have I said, “Why did I make that statement?” My friend Gloria has great insight. She makes a lot of sense. She speaks with wisdom that she has gained from studying God’s Word. People listen when Gloria speaks. And yes, as today’s Scripture says, her reputation increases. We should all seek to encourage those who cross our paths. We should measure our words carefully. We should speak wisely, not impulsively. Our words should bring healing and comfort to a world that needs both. Our words should be pleasing to God and helpful to others. Our words and our actions both should demonstrate what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ. Recently I did a study in God’s Word about communicating with others. Here are some questions to ask before jumping too quickly into conversations: Are my words positive or negative? Am I listening to what others say? Do I talk too much? Am I meddling or gossiping? Is my timing right? Am I speaking encouragingly? Do I have lying lips? Am I bragging or nagging? Do I admit wrongs? Do I sometimes need to bridle my tongue? Think on these statements so that your words will be more like God desires them to be. Ask God to give you His words and his wisdom.
The writers of Encouraging.com (God Moments: A Year in the Word)
So, are you…intrigued…by Stanhope?” “Intrigued by him?” “Indeed. Do you find him…” he paused. “Intriguing?” she teased. He sent her an exasperated look. “Lord Stanhope is a good friend and an even better companion. He is entertaining and interesting and intelligent and full of energy. I can think of few others with whom I would like to spend an afternoon. However, you know my opinion of marriage and all of its trappings. I’m not interested in it. Not with Freddie, nor with anyone else. And he knows that as well as anyone, I should think.” “I rather imagine that he’s not looking for marriage either,” Blackmoor replied drily. “What does that mean?” “Simply that men like Stanhope are not the marrying kind. At the risk of repeating our conversation from last night and engaging in an additional verbal battle, I caution you. I know Stanhope. He’s rarely after something respectable. Which leaves your good reputation in the balance.” “I shan’t repeat our argument, Blackmoor. I will simply remind you that Stanhope and I are friends. We have been for years. Just as you have been, I might remind you. Yes, he’s a rake. Yes, he prides himself on his dastardly reputation. But you and I both know that he’s more bark than bite, and that he is approximately as likely as you are to do damage to either me or my character.” Her tone turned teasing. “If you’re allowed to defend Penelope’s honor, do I not deserve the same chance to defend Freddie?” The noncommittal grunt he released was the closest he would come to admitting that Alex was right in this case, but when she heard it she knew she had won.
Sarah MacLean (The Season)
Your reputation is quite impressive, my lord,” Alex spoke quietly, referencing Nick’s jest, her tone half teasing. “I confess, growing up with you, I wouldn’t have expected it.” “I could play as though I do not understand your inference, my lady, but that would be a silly pretense. I assume you’re referring to my notoriety as a rake? You shouldn’t believe everything you hear gossiped about in ballrooms.” “Oh, no need to worry, my lord. I don’t.” “No?” “Not remotely. Considering my memories of you from our shared childhood, I find it quite difficult to believe you a danger either to me or to my reputation.” He chuckled and replied quietly, “Be careful, my lady. There’s a fine line between complimenting a gentleman and wounding his ego.” Impishly, she smiled up at him. “My apologies, Lord Stanhope. Of course, I meant that I don’t believe you pose a threat to either my reputation or to me at this particular moment. I would certainly think twice before allowing you the chance to escort me somewhere where your notorious wickedness could be unleashed, however.” With a loud laugh that caused the other four members of their party to look over, he flashed her an admiring glance. “Much better, and exactly what I imagine the elderly ladies of the ton would want you to think. After all, if the rumors are to be believed, I eat young ladies fresh on the marriage mart for breakfast.” “Ah, well, then, I am safe from you. I am not ‘on the marriage mart.’” “Oh, you aren’t?” His reply was laced with interest. She shook her head with a smile, “No. I’m not. I’m not interested in marriage.” One of his eyebrows cocked. “You’re not?” “No. When you were seventeen, were you thinking about marriage?” His response was filled with humor. “Certainly not.
Sarah MacLean (The Season)
Are you going to put your feet in?” he asked. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It would be foolish. Besides that, I’m already breaking too many rules by sitting here alone with you. Though if anyone finds me, I shall claim that I was abducted by a pirate.” “And then you would be forced to wed me to save your reputation,” he suggested. “Which is not so very dreadful.” “I disagree,” she countered. “You, Lord Ashton, are a very wicked man with no sense of propriety.” But her eyes revealed her amusement. “If I worried about what others think, I would not be sitting with a beautiful woman on a sunny day, now, would I?” He leaned back with his arms crooked behind his head. He had the feeling that Lady Rose had a rebellious side to her, buried beneath her years of good manners. She shook her head and sighed. Then she lifted up one foot and began unbuttoning her shoe. “I must be mad.” A rebel indeed. He grinned and helped her with the other shoe, until she was clad in stockings. “No more than I. But it was an invigorating swim.” “You ought to put your shirt on,” she reminded him. “Someone will see you and think you are intent on seducing me.” “You did accuse me of being a pirate, a chara.” He kept his voice light, but leaned a little closer. “We aren’t known for being gentlemen.” In response, Rose dipped her hand into the water and splashed it at his chest. “Then I’ll be forced to defend myself from you.” The frigid water spilled down his bare chest, dampening his waistband. Iain rested his arms on either side of her, trapping her against the rock. “Now that wasn’t fair, Lady Rose.” Her smile faded instantly. “I was teasing, Lord Ashton.” “Were you?” He was feeling rather bold at the moment. He drank in the sight of her—those wide brown eyes, the delicate nose and sweet lips. Her hair was hidden beneath the bonnet, and he took it off, setting it aside. “You don’t need this.” “My face will be covered in freckles if I don’t wear it.” But she didn’t appear to mind his interference. And instead of shoving him aside, she was watching him with interest. Sunlight gleamed across her brown hair, revealing the hints of auburn. He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. Her eyes widened, but she remained fixed upon his face. “Did Burkham ever kiss you?” “Of course.” Her voice held a hint of panic, but she didn’t pull away. He was caught up in the beauty of her. Her breath warmed his mouth, and for a moment, he remained near to her. She was forbidden to him, and he would not intrude where he wasn’t wanted. And yet, every part of him was entranced by her. “Tell me to leave you alone,” he said in a low voice. But she remained silent. Her hand moved up to touch the roughness of his face, and it only deepened the intimacy. She trailed her fingers upon his jaw, and the simple touch undid him. Iain bent and brushed his mouth against hers. It was the barest hint of a kiss, the promise of more if she wanted it. He pulled back immediately, searching her expression. He never wanted her to feel threatened by him. “Tell me if you’re wanting me to stop.” He leaned in again, nipping at her lips a second time. He waited for a long moment, giving her more than enough time to refuse. She could tell him no at any moment, and he would pull back. Instead, her eyes were wild, as if she didn’t know what to say or do. She tasted of summer, a softness and warmth like sunlight. Her eyes were caught up with his, her expression emboldened by a taste of the forbidden. Iain bent and claimed her mouth deeply, framing her face with both hands. He didn’t stop kissing her, learning the shape of her mouth and drawing her even closer.
Michelle Willingham (Good Earls Don't Lie)
Very well. Since you won’t divulge her location, answer me this. Why would Miss Plum turn down a respectable offer of marriage from a gentleman such as my Bram?” “Why is it that ladies seem to believe I enjoy discussing these types of personal matters?” Mr. Skukman countered. Iris continued as if Mr. Skukman had not spoken. “Bram is a wealthy, eligible, and influential gentleman who owns his own castle—not to mention his stellar good looks.” “You’re his mother. Of course you’re going to believe he has stellar good looks.” “You don’t believe my Bram is handsome?” “Yet another topic I’m not comfortable discussing, but . . . I suppose if I really consider the matter, yes . . . Mr. Haverstein’s features are adequately arranged, but Miss Plum is not a lady who is impressed by a handsome face.” “She’s an actress.” Mr. Skukman let out a bit of a growl, which had Lucetta immediately stepping from behind the curtain. “Thank you, Mr. Skukman, but I think it might be for the best if I take it from here.” “Were you hiding behind the curtains?” Iris demanded. “Obviously,” Lucetta said as she headed across the room, stepping in between Iris, who was looking indignant, and Mr. Skukman, who’d adopted his most intimidating pose—a pose that didn’t appear to intimidate Iris in the least. “Now then,” Lucetta began, sending Mr. Skukman a frown when he cracked his knuckles, “from what I overheard, you’re here, Mrs. Haverstein, to learn why I rejected Bram’s offer.” Iris lifted her chin. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve sought you out.” “Lovely, and before we address those other reasons, allow me to say that the reason I refused Bram’s proposal was because your son was offering to marry a woman who doesn’t exist. He simply has yet to realize that.” Iris narrowed her eyes. “Bram could provide you with everything.” “I’m fairly good at providing for myself, Mrs. Haverstein.” Iris’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “What are you really playing at? Are you, by chance, hoping that because you turned him down, he’ll make you a better offer?” Lucetta’s brows drew together. “What else could he possibly offer me that would be more appealing than his name?” For a second, Iris looked a little taken aback, but she rallied quickly. “You may be the type of woman who prefers the freedom spinsterhood provides, so I would imagine you’re holding out for a nice place in the city, replete with all the fashionable amenities.” Even though Lucetta was well aware of the reputation most actresses were assumed to enjoy, and even though such insinuations normally never bothered her, a sliver of hurt wormed its way into her heart. Before she could summon up a suitable response, though, Abigail suddenly breezed into the room. “Lucetta is like a granddaughter to me, Iris, and as such, you will treat her accordingly, as well as apologize for your serious lack of manners,” Abigail said as she plunked her hands on her hips and scowled at her daughter. At first, it seemed that Iris wanted to argue the point, but then she blew out a breath and nodded Lucetta’s way. “My mother is quite right. That was unkind of me, and unfair. Forgive me.” Lucetta
Jen Turano (Playing the Part (A Class of Their Own, #3))
Effect On Culture Organizations are made up of people. Those people work and “live” there with other people at least 40 hours per week. Like the connective tissue that begins to form when we are injured or when we are healing and becomes a part of who we are, team members are a part of the connective tissue of the organization. What happens when we remove or tear out a piece of that tissue? Not only does it hurt a lot, it causes heavy bleeding. If it doesn’t heal properly, there are complications. We may never regain our function in that area. When good productive people leave, we feel the pain and so does the culture of the team. The only way to mend the tissue permanently is to do the right things to engage and retain them. Spillover Effect We don’t talk about this much, but there is a psychological impact on other productive and engaged employees when they are forced to work with disengaged employees. Whether it is during water cooler talk or just in combined work spaces, the negative energy that disengaged employees pass to the entire team and organization can be toxic. Oftentimes, the disengaged employees are the scapegoats to deeper organizational issues. When we do not look at what is causing them to be disengaged, we enable the spillover effect to continue. Organizations that want a thriving workplace must rid themselves of disengaged employees, not necessarily by termination, but by living by the Laws found in this book. Negative Word Of Mouth Remember that unhappy employees don’t make for good promoters of your brand. In fact, disengaged employees are likely to tell more people and blurt it out all over social media and at every party. Reputationally, this negative word of mouth works against your brand promise. Who are you out in the world to your customers? Whatever that is, it must match who you are to your employees. Loss Of Organizational Stability Stop for a minute and think about what it says to your customers, partners, and investors when your employees keep walking out the door. Potentially, they could be in the middle of a complex project implementation and having a consistent point of contact through that process is key.
Heather R. Younger (The 7 Intuitive Laws of Employee Loyalty: Fascinating Truths About What It Takes to Create Truly Loyal and Engaged Employees)
21. THE HABIT OF INDISCRIMINATE SPENDING. The spend-thrift cannot succeed, mainly because he stands eternally in FEAR OF POVERTY. Form the habit of systematic saving by putting aside a definite percentage of your income. Money in the bank gives one a very safe foundation of COURAGE when bargaining for the sale of personal services. Without money, one must take what one is offered, and be glad to get it. 22. LACK OF ENTHUSIASM. Without enthusiasm one cannot be convincing. Moreover, enthusiasm is contagious, and the person who has it, under control, is generally welcome in any group of people. 23. INTOLERANCE. The person with a "closed" mind on any subject seldom gets ahead. Intolerance means that one has stopped acquiring knowledge. The most damaging forms of intolerance are those connected with religious, racial, and political differences of opinion. 24. INTEMPERANCE. The most damaging forms of intemperance are connected with eating, strong drink, and sexual activities. Overindulgence in any of these is fatal to success. 25. INABILITY TO COOPERATE WITH OTHERS. More people lose their positions and their big opportunities in life, because of this fault, than for all other reasons combined. It is a fault which no well-informed business man, or leader will tolerate. 26. POSSESSION OF POWER THAT WAS NOT ACQUIRED THROUGH SELF EFFORT. (Sons and daughters of wealthy men, and others who inherit money which they did not earn). Power in the hands of one who did not acquire it gradually, is often fatal to success. QUICK RICHES are more dangerous than poverty. 27. INTENTIONAL DISHONESTY. There is no substitute for honesty. One may be temporarily dishonest by force of circumstances over which one has no control, without permanent damage. But, there is NO HOPE for the person who is dishonest by choice. Sooner or later, his deeds will catch up with him, and he will pay by loss of reputation, and perhaps even loss of liberty. 28. EGOTISM AND VANITY. These qualities serve as red lights which warn others to keep away. THEY ARE FATAL TO SUCCESS. 29. GUESSING INSTEAD OF THINKING. Most people are too indifferent or lazy to acquire FACTS with which to THINK ACCURATELY. They prefer to act on "opinions" created by guesswork or snap-judgments. 30. LACK OF CAPITAL. This is a common cause of failure among those who start out in business for the first time, without sufficient reserve of capital to absorb the shock of their mistakes, and to carry them over until they have established a REPUTATION. 31. Under this, name any particular cause of failure from which you have suffered that has not been included in the foregoing list.
Napoleon Hill (Think and Grow Rich [Illustrated & Annotated])
Branding is what you say about yourself. Reputation is what others say about you. Always focus on reputation over brand.
Stephen J. Cloobeck (Checking In: Hospitality-Driven Thinking, Business, and You)
*WHAT IS MATURITY?* I used to think that maturity was about age and physical development, how wrong I was. I have since found out that age is only but a number, below are 20 definitions of *MATURITY* *-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-* 1.... *Maturity* is when you accept other people the way they are and their level of maturity. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 2.... *Maturity* is when you understand that your ideas are not always the best. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 3.... *Maturity* is when you learn to let go even if it pains. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 4... *Maturity* is when you are able to drop expectations from a relationship and give for giving sake. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 5.... *Maturity* is when you understand that whatever positive things you do, you do for your own peace. *-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 6... *Maturity* is when you stop proving to the world how RIGHT OR SUPERIOR you are. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 7.... *Maturity* is when you stop comparing yourself with others because life is not a competition. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-* 8.... *Maturity* is when you understand that you can't and shouldn't always get what you want every time. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 9.... *Maturity* is when you are contented and satisfied with your life and yet aspiring to be better everyday.. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 10.... *Maturity* is when someone hurt you and you understand their attitude and stay clear, rather than trying to hurt them back. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 11.... *Maturity* is when you start thinking about other people and not just yourself. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 12.... *Maturity* is when you know you cant please everyone. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 13.... *Maturity* is when you see things in different perspectives - far beyond the way they seem. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 14.... *Maturity* is when you love more and judge less. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 15.... *Maturity* is responsibility *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 16.... *Maturity* is Love *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 17.... *Maturity* is the application of wisdom and knowledge in humility.. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 18... *Maturity* is when you accept that your accomplishment, failures, destiny, reputations and virtually everything about your life depends on God's will and the choices you make and not pointing fingers at others. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 19... *Maturity* is when someone hates you and you still pray for them to succeed. *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+* 20.... *Maturity* is knowing God, serving Him with all that you've got and pursuing His Kingdom no matter what people think or say... *+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+*
Heyklaz
A reputation is only what others think of you. Character is what matters. That is who you really are.
Michelle Griep (The Thief of Blackfriars Lane (Blackfriars Lane #1))
Where Is Marijuana For Sale?[ Telegram : Broklyn07382 ] HOW TO BUY + HIGH GRADE ^ CANNABIS * IN ^ 2O22 VERIFIED IN 10 MINUTES AND STILL LOOK YOUR BEST If you're looking to buy medical or recreational marijuana in your area, you've come to the right place. Michigan has passed several laws legalizing marijuana, including allowing retail shops to sell it. However, many municipalities haven't made that easy transition yet. Currently, you'll have to wait until the state approves marijuana businesses before you can legally sell it. Here are a few things to keep in mind. First of all, you should always check the law before purchasing marijuana. While you're looking for medical marijuana, you'll want to check whether the state has laws in place. Marijuana is legal in many states, and Colorado has made it easy for businesses to obtain it. These are the contact information of legit marijuana sellers below: wickr : charleskolu420 Telegram : Broklyn07382 Under California law, marijuana is only legal for people over 21 years old. It also remains illegal to sell or transfer marijuana to anyone under the age of 21. However, marijuana sales and manufacturing must be done by legitimate, taxpaying businesspeople. These laws don't make buying marijuana illegal in California an easy task, but they do make it more difficult for people to find them. Fortunately, there are now many marijuana-related jobs in California. These are the contact information of legit marijuana sellers below: wickr : charleskolu420 Telegram : Broklyn07382 There are a few restrictions, however. Retail marijuana businesses can't open or sell pot on holidays. They also can't deliver it between 1:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. weekdays. In cities with more than 50,000 residents, there are even restrictions on how long pot stores can be open. And, even if you do get approved, the laws still require businesses to adhere to certain hours. In Michigan, for instance, marijuana stores can't open until 8:00 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, and only ten minutes later on Sundays. These are the contact information of legit marijuana sellers below: wickr : charleskolu420 Telegram : Broklyn07382 A label for marijuana must have certain information about the type of marijuana being sold and its concentrations. It should also state the type of extraction process used, and the name of the cultivation facility. In addition, the label should include how much marijuana was sold and the amount dispensed. Moreover, a label must be at least two and a half inches high and four inches wide. Lastly, it must state how it was prepared. These are the contact information of legit marijuana sellers below: wickr : charleskolu420 Telegram : Broklyn07382 In addition to being able to sell marijuana legally in your state, you should follow the rules and regulations for manufacturing and selling the substance. The state's Department of Safety and Homeland Security has the authority to test marijuana. This law is important because the state is trying to regulate marijuana, and you must follow the law in order to operate safely. There are other things you should know before you buy marijuana, too. If you're thinking about selling medical marijuana, you need to know what to expect. The laws on how to sell marijuana legally in Virginia differ from state to state. The process of legalizing the drug requires considerable budgetary resources and upfront investment. However, many states have already legalized marijuana, so Virginia can learn from other states' experience. However, these states aren't perfect, and there are challenges ahead. However, there are many steps that the state can take to ensure that marijuana for sale is safe. A reputable establishment will follow state laws on how to handle the drug safely.
marijuana
In the life of 32 years, I've never heard about the concept of self-love. I only knew that love is to save a life. I knew my reputation is my own responsibility & my name is a gift from my parents which I need to preserve throughout this life. I never loved myself. I loved books, people, my prices, passion, education, nature etc. I may not love myself or may be. But there was small span of time. I don't know that was good, bad or best. I really looked myself in mirror. There are so many beautiful women in this world but for sometime, she was the most beautiful woman I ever seen. I still remember, she was smiling. She opened her long hairs to see how she looks. Shall it be ok if open haired image upload to social media? What will people say? Everyone does it. You can also do it. She made it. Now I'm thinking of those days. Of course that was all nonsense I made & I never felt happy by doing all. Somewhere, I tried to connect with people. I did all those things to talk with them. I come to know that the reason behind the success of social media apart from marketing. It is a self marketing. I should have had to realized her behavior before. I know she was innocent, untouched, holy but she was best at the first place where she was belong to. I cut her long hairs & slapped her so many times to make her as old me but I have to convince myself that self love is the most selfish thing which you are doing for yourself some phases of life & self love & self care could be understand by the people who really loves you, cares for you. It is a high standard definition may questions your loyal responsibility in commoners.
Sonal Takalkar
Reputation is what others think of you Those who do not truly know you Character is what makes you So, make sure it defines you.
Ricardo Derose
Thanks. You saved me down there…”, I said, venting. My voice came out shaky. I could hardly believe I was safe from those wizards. I kept shaking. “Shh… come here,” he said, wrapping me in a warm hug that strangely gave me some comfort. I sank into that warrior's body. I wasn't sure I could trust him but I didn't have the strength to fight anymore. “Dafne and Loran have special personalities. They hate sleves… seeing a human being admitted to the academy… goes against everything they stand for. ” "Wizards' sovereignty," I said, understanding. Harry nodded, lowering his head over mine. “There's only one way for someone without magic to get protection from wizards…”, he said. I remembered what I had heard. I widened my eyes, anticipating his words. I pulled back, looking at him indignantly, “Getting involved with one of them? You can believe I never… ” “Not with one of them… with me” I swallowed hard. “I come from good families, I have my place at the academy... Dafne and Loran respect me… it's your best chance” Why was Harry willing to help me? Risking his reputation. But then I saw excitement in his eyes. This was not a sacrifice for him… Harry spoke scornfully of the families of pure wizards… even though he was one of them. This was his chance to piss off his family. "Well, I think we can see each other again," I nodded.
M.P.