Convinced Quotes
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She was convinced that men didn’t give a damn about other people’s feelings and that they got away with whatever they wanted. Women couldn’t be trusted either. They were too weak to stand up for themselves, and they’d sell their bodies to get men to take care of them. If you were in trouble, they wouldn’t lift a finger to help you. This worldview manifested itself in the way Marilyn approached her colleagues at work: She was suspicious of the motives of anyone who was kind to her and called them on the slightest deviation from the nursing regulations. As for herself: She was a bad seed, a fundamentally toxic person who made bad things happen to those around her.
Bessel van der Kolk
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Oral delivery aims at persuasion and making the listener believe they are converted. Few persons are capable of being convinced the majority allow themselves to be persuaded.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Well, I am now convinced there is no kind of fear or anxiety anyone has to live with.
Ricky Williams
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I'd been convinced I was on the outside, but really, I'd always been within arm's reach. All I had to do was ask, and I, too, would be easily brought back, surrounded and immersed, finding myself safe, somewhere in between.
Sarah Dessen
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I am completely convinced that UFOs have an out-of-world basis.
Walter Riedel
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I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of soldiers.
Siegfried Sassoon
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We are convinced that liberty without socialism is privilege, injustice; and that socialism without liberty is slavery and brutality.
Mikhail Bakunin
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Even schools for Negroes, then, are places where they must be convinced of their inferiority.
Carter G. Woodson
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The conclusion we drew from this convinced us that it was best to do everything on purpose, deliberately, so that you would know what to expect.
Elena Ferrante
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I had always considered sex an ultimate sticky reality, the least mediated contact possible with another body. Instead, after that experience, I was convinced that sex is an extreme product of the imagination. The greater the pleasure, the more the other is only a dream, a nocturnal reaction of belly, breasts, mouth, anus―of every isolated inch of skin―to the caresses and thrusts of a vague entity definable according to the necessities of the moment.
Elena Ferrante