Swallow Your Ego Quotes

Tough love and brutal truth from strangers are far more valuable than Band-Aids and half-truths from invested friends, who don’t want to see you suffer any more than you have.

If you can’t swallow your pride, you can’t lead.” He

You have two choices in life when it comes to truthful observations by others that anger you: You can be ashamed and cover it up by letting your pride take you in the extreme opposite direction, in order to make the point that they are wrong. Or, you can break down the walls of pride by accepting vulnerability as a strength, not a weakness. As you walk through your vulnerability, you will meet humility on the way to courage. From here, courage allows us to let go of shame and rise higher into the person we are meant to be, not the person that needs to be right. This is the road to confidence and self worth.

Sometimes in a marriage, it is easier to just buy peace and pay the price of swallowing your ego and keeping quiet.

In that case I’ll just finish it out so you can swallow it all in one lump. I love you, and I need you every bit as much as you love and need me. Maybe I don’t say it as often or show it as smoothly, but that doesn’t make it any less true. If it pricks your ego to know that I’d protect you, that’s just too bad.

As the famous conqueror and warrior Genghis Khan groomed his sons and generals to succeed him later in life, he repeatedly warned them, “If you can’t swallow your pride, you can’t lead.” He told them that pride would be harder to subdue than a wild lion. He liked the analogy of a mountain. He would say, “Even the tallest mountains have animals that, when they stand on it, are higher than the mountain.

You have to stop letting me do this,” he bit off, half-angrily. “If you’ll stop leaning on me so that I can get my hands on a blunt object, I’ll be happy to…!” He kissed the words into oblivion. “It isn’t a joke,” he murmured into her mouth. His hips moved in a gentle, sensuous sweep against her hips. He felt her shiver. “That’s…new,” she said with a strained attempt at humor. “It isn’t,” he corrected. “I’ve just never let you feel it before.” He kissed her slowly, savoring the submission of her soft, warm lips. His hands swept under the blouse and up under her breasts in their lacy covering. He was going over the edge. If he did, he was going to take her with him, and it would damage both of them. He had to stop it, now, while he could. “Is this what Colby gets when he comes to see you?” he whispered with deliberate sarcasm. It worked. She stepped on his foot as hard as she could with her bare instep. It surprised him more than it hurt him, but while he recoiled, she pushed him and tore out of his arms. Her eyes were lividly green through her glasses, her hair in disarray. She glared at him like a female panther. “What Colby gets is none of your business! You get out of my apartment!” she raged at him. She was magnificent, he thought, watching her with helpless delight. There wasn’t a man alive who could cow her, or bend her to his will. Even her drunken, brutal stepfather hadn’t been able to force her to do something she didn’t want to do. “Oh, I hate that damned smug grin,” she threw at him, swallowing her fury. “Man, the conqueror!” “That isn’t what I was thinking at all.” He sobered little by little. “My mother was a meek little thing when she was younger,” he recalled. “But she was forever throwing herself in front of me to keep my father from killing me. It was a long time until I grew big enough to protect her.” She stared at him curiously, still shaken. “I don’t understand.” “You have a fierce spirit,” he said quietly. “I admire it, even when it exasperates me. But it wouldn’t be enough to save you from a man bent on hurting you.” He sighed heavily. “You’ve been…my responsibility…for a long time,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “No matter how old you grow, I’ll still feel protective about you. It’s the way I’m made.” He meant to comfort, but the words hurt. She smiled anyway. “I can take care of myself.” “Can you?” he said softly. He searched her eyes. “In a weak moment…” “I don’t have too many of those. Mostly, you’re responsible for them,” she said with black humor. “Will you go away? I’m supposed to try to seduce you, not the reverse. You’re breaking the rules.” His eyebrow lifted. Her sense of humor seemed to mend what was wrong between them. “You stopped trying to seduce me.” “You kept turning me down,” she pointed out. “A woman’s ego can only take so much rejection.

I have lived a big life. For that I am grateful. But as one disengages from it and grows more reflective and less involved in the day-to-day grind, I think it’s possible to discover wisdom, born of experience and thankfulness. You must “ swallow the shadow” i.e. the fear of death. You must let go of the image of the fit-body and the triumph of your ego-place in the overculture. I think, if you can do that, this “good age” as I like to call it, can be full of radiant inspiration and tender memory. For in all it’s contradiction, somewhere, in the puzzle of life, is incredible beauty. And who does not want to know beauty through their remembering?

I know my time with you is somewhat borrowed,” Leo said quietly. “And I know that I will never have all of you. But, Tem.” He paused, looking her right in the eye. “It is without ego that I say your presence in my life has changed me immeasurably. You are headstrong. And stubborn. And infuriatingly difficult to please.” She smiled at that one. Leo continued. “You are also courageous. And irresistible. And you invariably make me a better person, even when I struggle to return the favor. In short, you are too good for me. But I’m asking for you anyway.” Tears were coming. She didn’t bother holding them back. “I am greedy when it comes to you, Tem. I want every moment you’re willing to give me. Even if our marriage offers me nothing but the opportunity to humble myself before you, it would be worth it to spend what’s left of my life in your presence.” He opened the box. “Would you do me the honor of being my queen?

We may finally summarize the emotional dilemma of the schizoid thus: he feels a deep dread of entering into a real personal relationship, i.e. one into which genuine feeling enters, because, though his need for a love-object is so great, he can only sustain a relationship at a deep emotional level on the basis of infantile and absolute dependence. To the love-hungry schizoid faced internally with an exciting but deserting object all relationships are felt to be 'swallowing-up things' which trap and imprison and destroy. If your hate is destructive you are still free to love because you can find someone else to hate. But if you feel your love is destructive the situation is terrifying. You are always impelled into a relationship by your needs and at once driven out again by the fear either of exhausting your love-object by the demands you want to make or else losing your own individuality by over-dependence and identification. This 'in and out' oscillation is the typical schizoid behaviour, and to escape from it into detachment and loss of feeling is the typical schizoid state. The schizoid feels faced with utter loss, and the destruction of both ego and object, whether in a relationship or out of it. In a relationship, identification involves loss of the ego, and incorporation involves a hungry devouring and losing of the object. In breaking away to independence, the object is destroyed as you fight a way out to freedom, or lost by separation, and the ego is destroyed or emptied by the loss of the object with whom it is identified. The only real solution is the dissolving of identification and the maturing of the personality, the differentiation of ego and object, and the growth of a capacity for cooperative independence and mutuality, i.e. psychic rebirth and development of a real ego.

Prior domestication. It's possible that the person or situation provokes a deep memory of someone attempting to domesticate you and you resisting. Even if you can't fully remember the event, your subconscious or deep memory is making the connection. As a result, your perception of the current situation is skewed by the domestication of the past. You are seeing this person as a potential threat, and your conscious or unconscious mind has labeled them as such, even if you don't realize it. If you can connect the dots and see that the reason this person bothers you is based on a past experience rather than the current situation, you have begun to eliminate their power to upset you, putting your will back into your control. With the knowledge of the memory or similar situation that the person is activating in you, you can work toward forgiving and releasing the trauma caused by the past domesticator and see the current situation in a new light, no longer obscured by the shadow of your past. Often just the association with the past begins to free you from the torment of the present situation, thus removing its power over you and absolving it as a potential trigger. 2. Mirroring. Everyone is our mirror, and our reflection of things we don't like about ourselves is most vivid in those who have the same qualities. In other words, you may see a piece of yourself in this other person even if you don't realize it. This truth may come as a surprise to some of you, and your initial reaction may be to disagree. But I invite you to look deeper. Whatever characteristic you see in another that you don't like is often a characteristic you see in some degree in yourself. For instance, if you catch someone in a lie and that bothers you greatly, can you find a time in your past where you have also been a liar? If you find yourself complaining about the shortcomings of your friends, notice how many of those complaints could also apply to you. This can be a hard truth to swallow at first, but it is also a useful tool to dissolve any negative internal reaction that occurs when dealing with someone else, because it allows you to see him or her as yourself. 3. Attachment. When you encounter someone who has an uncanny ability to provoke a reaction in you, it may be because you have an attachment to a belief that you feel needs to be defended, and you view this other person as a threat to that belief. When you are very attached to your beliefs, conflicts are almost certain to arise. While some beliefs may need defending, especially when they involve the physical well-being of yourself or someone else, these are typically not the ones we find ourselves in conflict over. There is a big difference between defending a belief that protects your physical being and a belief that simply supports a position your ego holds dear. Knowing the difference between the two, as well as your commitment to respecting another's right to believe differently than you, is a way to release your attachment to a belief grounded in egotism and view the other person's viewpoint with respect.

If you can’t swallow your pride, you can’t lead.

Don't draw attention to yourself. I know it sucks, but try to be as small as possible." He would never get on the line, I could tell. He wasn't going to last. A lot of Americans had this problem in the European kitchens. It wasn't that they didn't love cooking, it was that they didn't have the skills. They'd done their research and paid their dues and worked just as hard as I had to get to restaurants like Victoria Jungfrau and Georges Blanc. But to get ahead in that culture, you have to completely give yourself up to the place. Your time, your ego, your relationships, your social life, they are all sacrificed. It's a daily dose of humility that a lot of Americans find difficult to swallow. Guys like Jeremy could never fully tamp down the desire to be seen and heard, to stand out and make his mark, to go up to the chef and get noticed by chatting: "I just want to say hi and thank you." The thing is, small talk with a commis is the last thing on a chef's to-do list. Correction: It's not even on the list.

Anton Ego: [sarcastic] You're slow for someone in the fast lane. Linguini: [a little nervously] And you're... thin, for someone who likes food. [crowd gasps] Anton Ego: I don't *like* food; I LOVE it. If I don't love it, I don't *swallow*.

If you've got nothing to say about somebody, swallow your ego and say only what is good.

Sometimes, you have to swallow your pride, eat your words, chew your ego, and accept that you're wrong. It's not giving up. It's called growing up.

She studies my face for a second before sighing and adding, “I had an ex-boyfriend who used to tell me I only got opportunities handed to me because I’m a woman, not because I’m a good player. Because I…” she trails off and swallows. “Anyway. Once you hear the same thing so many times, you start to think it’s true.” My hand flexes at my side. I narrow my eyes. Irritation rips through me, and I have the urge to hurt someone really fucking bad. “You dated this guy?” I ask, and she nods. “I don’t know jack shit about relationships, but putting your girlfriend down because you don’t like watching her become more successful than you doesn’t seem like someone I would want to be around.” “We all do dumb shit when we’re young and in love. Play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. Mine happened to be an asshole who liked to make me feel small while he was the one with the tiny dick.” I choke on a laugh. “How tiny are we talking?” Emerson holds up her fingers barely four inches apart. “That tiny.” “I need to send you a fruit basket and offer my condolences.” “I’m allergic to strawberries.” “Noted. You gonna give me a name?” I ask. “Nope,” she answers. “I have friends who could track him down. They could hack into his computer if you ever feel like retaliating.” “Who the hell are you friends with?” “Stop wanting to know things about me,” I say smugly. “I’m going to think you like me, Red.” “If your ego gets any bigger, there’s not going to be any room for us in the hallway.” “You could stand closer to me, if you want.

Don’t have too much fun but don’t have no fun, look hot but not too hot, be easy, be accommodating, be authentic but not if you’re feeling bad—no one wants to hear you bitch and moan. Swallow your ego, swallow your pride, accept criticism, take the blame, and smile. Don’t forget to smile.

If you want to get better at something, do it while surrounded by people who are already doing it at a much, much higher level than you. Swallow your ego, shut your mouth, then pay attention and learn from getting crushed by these people again and again.

Yes. I walked away with fire in my chest and no mercy left in me. After eight years of lies, cheating, gaslighting, emotional warfare, and silence where there should’ve been intimacy, I exploded. He was a master manipulator. Playing the victim. Twisting the truth. Feeding me just enough hope to keep me hanging on while feeding his ego with other women behind my back. He’d come and go when it suited him. He'd take what he wanted. Sex, comfort, my energy, my peace. But when I wanted something, when I needed him to be present, to be a man, to meet me in love or even desire, he pulled away. He withheld. Emotionally. Physically. Sexually. I was starving and breaking and begging for someone who barely saw me unless it was convenient for him. Then the house talk came. Promises of building something. Starting over. Resetting. And right when I started to give in, pushing through the anxiety, the trauma, the pain, he turned around and bought a boat. Cash. Just like that. That was my breaking point. You want to convince me you're serious about a life with me, and you throw thousands at a toy instead of putting it toward our home? So I ended it. Violently. Loudly. I told him everything I’d swallowed for years. I ripped the truth out of my mouth like poison. I told him he was inconsistent, selfish, emotionally absent, and not worth the years I gave. I told him he was no man, just a boy in a grown body pretending to know what love is. I told him he wasn’t generous. Not with love. Not with time. Not even with money. Just selfish. A taker. And yes, I cursed him. I cursed his soul for what he did to mine. And I cursed his daughters. I told him that I hope they meet a man just like him, so he could feel the same helpless pain my parents felt watching me fall apart. So he could finally understand what it's like to watch someone you love shrink and disappear while pretending to be fine. To see the light in their eyes dim and not be able to do a damn thing about it. Even when I didn’t say a word, my parents saw the wreckage he left in me. I threw his clothes in his mother’s yard like garbage. Slammed the car door. Drove off like my life depended on it. And I never looked back. It’s been two years and then some. And healing hasn’t been easy. It’s been hell. Depression. Insecurity. That empty feeling in my chest. Feeling worthless. Questioning everything. Missing him some nights. Wanting him. Then hating myself for even thinking it. My mind knew it was over, but my body still craved him. That’s what no one talks about. The trauma bond. The physical pull. And what’s worse? Even when I had him, I wasn't truly satisfied. My body was never fully met because he was too busy giving himself to everyone else. My body missed a man it never even fully had. But now I see the light. I am healing. Day by day. Mind. Heart. Body. And I have no regrets. I walked away aggressively because I had to rip him out of my system to save myself. And girl, that’s how I left. Not quiet. Not sweet. But like a storm that finally had enough.