Peasant’s pride is lordling’s shame.
Our vanity is most difficult to wound just when our pride has been wounded.
Nothing has been more dearly bought than the minute portion of human reason and feeling of liberty upon which we now pride ourselves.
No one is so modest as not to believe himself a competent amateur sleuth.
Necessity has a way of obliterating from our conduct various delicate scruples regarding honor and pride.
My pride fell with my fortunes.
Man, how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!
I do understand. I understand that you are offered a loveliness and you vomit on it, that you have the gift of love given you such as few men have ever known and you throw on it the acid of your pride, your ugly twisted sense of importance.
I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads.
I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.
I am not proud, but I am happy, and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.
He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
