Snob Quotes (displaying: 1 - 30 of 41 quotes )
That's how the world works, doesn't it?"That's how it can work. You're such a snob, Brian."He looked up, flabbergasted. "What?"You're such a snob, and the worst kind of snob-the kind who thinks he's broad-minded. Now that I know that, you don't bother me at all."The stable phone rang, delighting her. Whoever was on the other end not only had perfect timing but they had her gratitude. It gave her great pleasure to see the absolute shock on Brian's face as she walked to the phone."Royal Meadows Riding Academy. Would you hold one moment, please." With a friendly smile, she laid a hand over the receiver. "Really, I can finish up here. I'm keeping you from your work."I'm not a snob," he finally managed to say. "Of course you wouldn't see it that way. Can we discuss this another time? I need to take this call."Irked, he shoved the scoop back in the grain. "I'm not the one wearing bloody diamonds in my ears," he muttered as he stalked out.
It put him out of humor for the rest of the day. It stuck in his craw and festered thered. A nasty little canker sore on the ego. Snob? Where did the woman get off calling him a snob? And after he'd made the effort to be friendly, even complimenting her on her snooty little riding academy. He did the evening check himself, as was his habit, and spent considerable time going over the prime filly who was to head down to Hialeah to race there. Ttavis wanted Brian to go along for this one, and he was more than happy to oblige. It would do him a world of good to put a thousand miles or so between himself and Keeley."Shouldn't be looking in that direction, even for a blink," he muttered, then nuzzled the filly.
Nearly all bookish people are snobs, and especially the more enlightened among them. They are apt to assume that if a writer has immense circulation, if he is enjoyed by plain persons, and if he can fill several theatres at once, he cannont possibly be worth reading and merits only indifference and disdain.
What's he so damn arrogant about? Just because he made that fortune himself? Does he have to be such a damn snob just because he came from Hell's Kitchen? It isn't other people's fault if they weren't lucky enough to be born in Hell's Kitchen to rise out of! Nobody understands what a terrible handicap it is to be born rich. Because people just take for granted that because you were born that way you'd just be no good if you weren't. What I mean is if I'd had Gail Wynand's breaks, I'd be twice as rich as he is by now and three times as famous. But he's so conceited he doesn't realize this at all!
I’ve had boyfriends before, and frankly, each one was a disappointment. There was nothing horribly wrong with these boys. It was my fault. I’m kind of a snob when it comes to guys. So far, the biggest problem with the boys I’ve dated is that they weren’t too smart. And eventually I ended up hating myself for being with them. It scared me, trying to pretend I was something I wasn’t. I could see how easily it could be done, and it made me realize that was what most of the other girls were doing as well—pretending. If you were a girl, you could start pretending in high school and go on pretending your whole life, until, I suppose, you imploded and had a nervous breakdown, which is something that’s happened to a few of the mothers around here. All of a sudden, one day something snaps and they don’t get out of bed for three years.
In Maurice I tried to create a character who was completely unlike myself or what I supposed myself to be: someone handsome, healthy, bodily attractive, mentally torpid, not a bad business man and rather a snob. Into this mixture I dropped an ingredient that puzzles him, wakes him up, torments him and finally saves him.
...[T]he only means I have to stop ignorant snobs from behaving towards genre fiction with snobbish ignorance is to not reinforce their ignorance and snobbery by lying and saying that when I write SF it isn't SF, but to tell them more or less patiently for forty or fifty years that they are wrong to exclude SF and fantasy from literature, and proving my arguments by writing well.
The whole modern world has divided itself into Conservatives and Progressives. The business of Progressives is to go on making mistakes. The business of Conservatives is to prevent mistakes from being corrected. Even when the revolutionist might himself repent of his revolution, the traditionalist is already defending it as part of his tradition. Thus we have two great types -- the advanced person who rushes us into ruin, and the retrospective person who admires the ruins. He admires them especially by moonlight, not to say moonshine. Each new blunder of the progressive or prig becomes instantly a legend of immemorial antiquity for the snob. This is called the balance, or mutual check, in our Constitution.
You have a morbid aversion to dying. You probably resent the fact that you're at war and might get your head blown off any second."I more than resent it, sir. I'm absolutely incensed."You have deep-seated survival anxieties. And you don't like bigots, bullies, snobs, or hypocrites. Subconsciously there are many people you hate."Consciously, sir, consciously," Yossarian corrected in an effort to help. "I hate them consciously."You're antagonistic to the idea of being robbed, exploited, degraded, humiliated, or deceived. Misery depresses you. Ignorance depresses you. Persecution depresses you. Violence depresses you. Corruption depresses you. You know, it wouldn't surprise me if you're a manic-depressive!"Yes, sir. Perhaps I am."Don't try to deny it."I'm not denying it, sir," said Yossarian, pleased with the miraculous rapport that finally existed between them. "I agree with all you've said.
I'm as big as snob as they come, but money is a terrible barometer of a person's worth. The standard I used is what a person is choosing to do with his life. So for me a struggling musician (someone dedicated to their craft, not some slacker) is much better than some lame investment banker. And the fact that she lied seemed like she was ashamed. She dismissed my anger as if I were overreacting.
When Christ at a symbolic moment was establishing His great society, He chose for its cornerstone neither the brilliant Paul nor the mystic John, but a shuffler, a snob, a coward? in a word, a man. And upon this rock He has built His Church, and the gates of Hell have not prevailed against it. All the empires and the kingdoms have failed, because of this inherent and continual weakness, that they were founded by strong men and upon strong men. But this one thing, the historic Christian Church, was founded on a weak man, and for that reason it is indestructible. For no chain is stronger than its weakest link.
The moral is, never be sorry for a waiter. Sometimes when you sit in arestaurant, still stuffing yourself half an hour after closing time, youfeel that the tired waiter at your side must surely be despising you. Buthe is not. He is not thinking as he looks at you, 'What an overfed lout'; he is thinking, 'One day, when I have saved enough money, I shall be ableto imitate that man.' He is ministering to a kind of pleasure he thoroughlyunderstands and admires. And that is why waiters are seldom Socialists, have no effective trade union, and will work twelve hours a day--theywork fifteen hours, seven days a week, in many cafes. They are snobs, andthey find the servile nature of their work rather congenial.