We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves.
quote by Henri Frederic Amiel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
To be completely woman you need a master, and in him a compass for your life. You need a man you can look up to and respect. If you dethrone him it's no wonder that you are discontented, and discontented women are not loved for long.
quote by Marlene Dietrich
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
He that is discontented in one place will seldom be happy in another.
Were there none who were discontented with what they have, the world would never reach anything better.
quote by Florence Nightingale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The discontented believe that their regrets are about the past.
quote by Mason Cooley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The discontented man finds no easy chair.
quote by Benjamin Franklin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
It s the discontented fish that envies the solely bird.
It is a wise man that does know the contented man is never poor, whilst the discontented man is never rich.
quote by Frank Herbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.
What makes us discontented with our condition is the absurdly exaggerated idea we have of the happiness of others.
When a man is discontented with himself, it has one advantage - that it puts him into an excellent frame of mind for making a bargain.
quote by Laurence Sterne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Every time I bestow a vacant office I make a hundred discontented persons and one ingrate.
A discontented young fellow, filled with self pride; he certainly should have considered it an honor to be sent on so respectable an embassy as he was.
quote by Zebulon Pike
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Car Park Syndrome
Why are you always discontented
wherever you park the car?
Even in an enormous empty car park
you're never happy where you are.
poem by Tex T Sarnie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Man is insatiable for power; he is infantile in his desires and, always discontented with what he has, loves only what he has not. People complain of the despotism of princes; they ought to complain of the despotism of man.
quote by Joseph de Maistre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Life
Somehow
I feel
Disenchanted
And discontented
With life
Yet life finds
So many ways
Of enchanting me
And making me
Feel contented
Does she
Succeed?
No,
She fails,
Miserably...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Certainly we ought to be discontented, we ought not simply to find out ways of making the best of a bad job, and yet if we kill all pleasure in the actual process of life, what sort of future are we preparing for ourselves? If a man cannot enjoy the return of spring, why should he be happy in a labour-saving Utopia? What will he do with the leisure that the machine will give him?
quote by George Orwell
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
In search of truth
In search of truth
Fed up with the falsehood
I became a discontented soul
I read books
Met scholars
Tried all that was possible
Every time I thought
I have got what I wanted
I found I was wrong
I was, where I was
I met an old man
Who told me
To reduce my desires
Try to be happy
With what I have
I decided to try
Put his advice into action
Not to mention
Truth seems nearer
I am happier
Than ever before
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poet's Hope
'Twas a weary-looking mortal, and he wandered near the portal
Of the melancholy City of the Discontented Dead.
He was pale and worn exceeding and his manner was unheeding,
As if it could not matter what he did nor what he said.
'Sacred stranger'-I addressed him with a reverence befitting
The austere, unintermitting, dread solemnity he wore;
'Tis the custom, too, prevailing in that vicinage when hailing
One who possibly may be a person lately 'gone before'
'Sacred stranger, much I ponder on your evident dejection,
But my carefulest reflection leaves the riddle still unread.
How do you yourself explain your dismal tendency to wander
By the melancholy City of the Discontented Dead?'
Then that solemn person, pausing in the march that he was making,
Roused himself as if awaking, fixed his dull and stony eye
On my countenance and, slowly, like a priest devout and holy,
Chanted in a mournful monotone the following reply:
'O my brother, do not fear it; I'm no disembodied spirit
I am Lampton, the Slang Poet, with a price upon my head.
I am watching by this portal for some late lamented mortal
To arise in his disquietude and leave his earthy bed.
'Then I hope to take possession and pull in the earth above me
And, renouncing my profession, ne'er be heard of any more.
For there's not a soul to love me and no living thing respects me,
Which so painfully affects me that I fain would 'go before.''
Then I felt a deep compassion for the gentleman's dejection,
For privation of affection would refrigerate a frog.
So I said: 'If nothing human, and if neither man nor woman
Can appreciate the fashion of your merit-buy a dog.'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Boon of Discontent
Once an anthropoidal ape,
Hairy, savage, strange of shape,
On a day that was excessively B.C.,
In a forest damp and dim,
With his tail round a limb,
Hung head downward from a neolithic tree;
And appeared to be lost in gloomy introspection.
In his dull primeval style,
He considered quite a while
A comparatively thoughtful ape was he
Then he drummed upon his chest,
And remarked: 'I give it best!
Strike me lucky! This 'ere game's no good to me!
And I'm full up of the whole damn business!'
To the father of the tribe
He proceeded to describe
How upon a change of living he was bent.
Said the Tory anthropoid:
'Son, such thoughts you should avoid:
They are obviously born of discontent.
And such revolutionary notions would rend the whole social fabric.'
Since the Eocene,
Till this age of biplanes,
Man has ever been
Yearning toward the high planes.
And while the Tory lags behind in by-ways worn and narrow,
'Tis the discontented section that shoves on the old world's barrow.
Once a naked troglodyte,
On a bitter Winter's night,
Sat and shivered in his cave the whole night through!
For his scanty coat of hair
In no manner could compare
With the matted clothes his late forefather grew.
(Meaning the meditative anthropoidal ape I mentioned previously.)
And the troglodyte remarked,
As without a wild dog barked,
And a dinosaurus lumbered through the fog,
'I am sick of nakedness,
And I'd like, I must confess,
To be shielded in the clothing of a dog.
And, hang me, if I don't go after one in the morning.'
He was met with scoffs and grins,
When he walked abroad in skins:
And the troglodyte Conservatives cried: 'Shame!
Thus to hide the healthy nude
Is obscene, indecent rude!'
But the malcontent felt warmer, all the same.
And so began the evolution of the split skirt and the hot sock.
Since the Age of Stone,
To these Days of Reason,
Man has keener grown
In and out of season.
'Tis through being discontented that humanity progresses.
If you're satisfied with dog skins you will ne'er have satin dresses.
Once upon a time, a slave
Had an impulse to behave
In a most unprecedented sort of style.
He threw down his tools, and cried
That he wasn't satisfied,
And all slavery was barbarous and vile.
(They probably boiled him in oil; but that's merely incidental.)
Once again, a man who rode
In a coach disliked the mode
Of that locomotion. 'Twas too slow by far.
He was filled with discontent;
So he - or some other - went
And, in course of time, evolved the motor-car.
And, if ever you've had one scare seven devils out of you, you'll know
it for a very great invention.
So, observe, this discontent
To mankind is wisely sent
That he may be urged along to conquer new things,
They who were quite satisfied,
Like the Dinosaurs, died.
While the discontented anthropoids still do things.
And continue to be discontented, of course; but that's all in the game.
Since the age of apes,
To this generation,
Mankind thus escapes
Absolute stagnation.
Here's the only consolation my philosophy is giving:
Discontentment with existence is your sole excuse for living.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Living Beauty
I BADE, because the wick and oil are spent
And frozen are the channels of the blood,
My discontented heart to draw content
From beauty that is cast out of a mould
In bronze, or that in dazzling marble appears,
Appears, but when wc have gone is gone again,
Being more indifferent to our solitude
Than 'twere an apparition. O heart, we are old;
The living beauty is for younger men:
We cannot pay its rribute of wild tears.
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!