flattery

One of the most distinct features of this whole human history is god flattery! People never get tired of buttering every kind of gods in the hope of getting earthly benefit or obtaining heavenly plunder! Man is no doubt a tireless flunkey!

I'll read enoughWhen I do see the very book indeedWhere all my sins are writ, and that's myself.Give me that glass and therein will I read.No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struckSo many blows upon this face of mineAnd made no deeper wounds?O flattering glass,Like to my followers in prosperityThou dost beguile me!

I do not know whether anyone has ever succeeded in not enjoying praise. And, if he enjoys it, he naturally wants to receive it. And if he wants to receive it, he cannot help but being distraught at losing it. Those who are in love with applause have their spirits starved not only when they are blamed off-hand, but even when they fail to be constantly praised.

If a story is w/out flaws or doubts, it is flattery or even brainwashing. You should read it as if drinking a glass of water. But be prepared - you would not remember its taste.

Every sexual sin begins with flattery.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but theft is a sin.

In every reign there comes one night of greatest blackness, when a King must send away his court of flatterers and servants, and sit alone in the dark with the beast called truth.In the gloom of the grand hall, Slately could hear it breathe.Truth at court was treated as if it were a precious commodity. It was hoarded, coveted, bartered for. Certainly this analogy applied to lies; his courtiers accepted his lies as currency of the realm. He handed them lies in large denominations, and they returned him his change in small ones.Oh, but truth was something different. Something alive and immortal. By light of day it was only a little butterfly: pretty, elusive, easily crushed, and utterly unable to defend itself. Most nights, too, it slept harmlessly. One could wave it away for a very long time.But on the nights it did not sleep, neither did the King.

The trouble with most of us is that we'd rather be ruined by praise than saved by criticism.

But unlike Jack, Bobby had not been groomed to be a candidate, and he was constitutionally incapable of the flattery and false praise with which politicians like Johnson got others to do their daily bidding.

What separates us into engineers and robots, puppeteers and puppets, kings and pawns, is not the status we hold at any given time among others - status is irrelevant; it is the level of ever-present awareness we have of a grey-matter tailor's tools [of flattery, persuasion, and cunning.]