Pride is founded not on the sense of happiness, but on the sense of power.
William HazlittRead
One is always more vexed at losing a game of any sort by a single hole or ace, than if one has never had a chance of winning it.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the emotional investment in competition and the pain of narrowly missing victory.
William Hazlitt's quote underscores the human tendency to feel more frustration and disappointment over a close loss than over a game never played. It illuminates our emotional connection to the hope of succeeding, suggesting that proximity to victory intensifies our feelings of regret and vexation compared to a complete lack of opportunity.
In practice
During a motivational talk about sportsmanship and competition.
Pride is founded not on the sense of happiness, but on the sense of power.
The world loves to be amused by hollow professions, to be deceived by flattering appearances, to live in a state of hallucination; and can forgive everything but the plain, downright, simple, honest truth.
Our repugnance to death increases in proportion to our consciousness of having lived in vain.
We can bear to be deprived of everything but our self-conceit.
There are few things in which we deceive ourselves more than in the esteem we profess to entertain for our firends. It is little better than a piece of quackery. The truth is, we think of them as we please, that is, as they please or displease us.
Prosperity is a great teacher; adversity is a greater. Possession pampers the mind; privation trains and strengthens it.
Hatred obscures all distinctions.
You couldn't be more wrong," I said. "You are buying into the cross-stitched sentiments of your parents' throw pillows. You're arguing that the fragile, rare thing is beautiful simply because it is fragile and rare. But that's a lie, and you know it." "You're a hard person to comfort," Augustus said. "Easy comfort isn't comforting," I said.
War is war. The only good human being is a dead one.
Not everybody believes in ghosts, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha? She had shaken her head slowly. Men and women who can't get over their past . . . That's what ghosts are.
The sorcerer's description of the world is perceivable. But our insistence on holding on to our standard version of reality renders us almost deaf and blind to it.
We musn't forget old people with their rotten bodies, old people who are so close to death, something that young people don't want to think about. We musn't forget that our bodies decline, friends die, everyone forgets about us, and the end is solitude. Nor must we forget that these old people were young once, that a lifespan is pathetically short, that one day you're twenty and the next day you're eighty.
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