Standing Up For Yourself Quotes

“Not all friends know they have lost you.”
― Joyce Rachelle

“I am sure you understand," Father began, looking past Violet at the wall, "that I cannot allow you back into my house after what you have done. I have arranged for you to be taken to a finishing school in Scotland. You will stay there for two years, and after that I will decide what is to be done with you."
Violet heard Graham clear his throat.
"No," she said, before her brother could open his mouth to speak. "That won't be acceptable, I'm afraid, Father."
His jowls slackened with shock. He looked as if she had slapped him.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I won't be going to Scotland. In fact, I won't be going anywhere. I'm staying right here." As she spoke, Violet became aware of a strange simmering sensation, as though electricity was humming beneath her skin. Images flashed in her mind---a crow cutting through the air, wings glittered with snow; the spokes of a wheel spinning. Briefly, she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling until she could almost see it, glinting gold inside her.
"That is not for you to decide," said Father. The window was open, and a bee flitted about the room, wings a silver blur. It flew near Father's cheek and he jerked away from it.
"It's been decided." She stood up straight, her dark eyes boring into Father's watery ones. He blinked. The bee hovered about his face, dancing away from his hands, and she saw sweat break out on his nose. Soon it was joined by another, and then another and another, until it seemed like Father---shouting and swearing---had been engulfed in a cloud of tawny, glistening bodies.
"I think it would be best if you left now, Father," said Violet softly. "After all, as you said, I'm my mother's daughter.”
― Emilia Hart, Weyward

“My condition isn't an impediment. I'm not defined by it, and it doesn't limit me. It doesn't make me less, or different, and even if I fail, I'll just get back up and try again. So please don't come back into my life, unless you understand it isn't yours to run.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“I think we each have a certain number of unnecessary apologies, which we willingly dish out before we realize it's time to stand and fight. I may still have two or three left.”
― Joyce Rachelle

“Sometimes you don't need to do too much to voice your rights. Just sit and remain in your position as Rosa Parks did.”
― Mitta Xinindlu

“You haven't been yourself lately." Nikhil shook his head and sighed. "You've gone off the rails. We just want you to go back to being who you were--- sweet, good, quiet, respectful. Listen to the people who know what's best for you."
"Shut up, Nikhil." I was sick of him and his officious, condescending attitude, sick of him thinking he knew anything about me. Where was he when I was struggling at school? Where was he when I needed a big brother, or even a friend? "Why are you here anyway?"
"To make sure you do the right thing."
"And that would be what? Telling the head of a Mafia family I'm going to bail on his daughter's wedding? Do you know how much money he's paying me to see it through? You can't even count that high."
Nikhil swallowed hard. He couldn't stand being bested in any way. "We've found a perfect match for you. He's a dermatologist and he's looking for a wife. The family all agrees this is the best thing for you."
"Single and has a job. That's a pretty low bar." I said. "Personality. Interests. Political views. Sense of humor. Pets. Hobbies. Character. Intelligence. Values. None of those matter?"
"Not when you've lost all sense of who you are." Nikhil leaned forward. "Not when the family honor is at stake."
"Oh, I'm sorry." My voice dripped with sarcasm. "Did I go to sleep and wake up in the wrong century? The family honor? Since when does our family have honor? And in what universe did you ever think I would agree to something like this?”
― Sara Desai, To Have and to Heist

“You can say whatever you want about me, but none of it's true. You just can't stand the fact that your career is stagnant and you don't have enough talent to climb your way up on your own. If calling me names and threatening me makes you feel like more of a man, fine. Knock yourself out."
Eden yanks her hand away and jabs her forefinger against his chest hard enough that it makes him wince. "You have a problem with me? You tell me. I'll cook circles around you, you snake. You think you can get away with it because I look like an easy target? I've got news for you, asshole, I've got a lot more fight in me than you think. But don't for a second think you can get away with dragging Alexander's name through the mud. He's twice the man you will ever hope to be. You're nothing but a little boy throwing a tantrum. So go ahead, do your fucking worst. Just don't be surprised when karma comes around to bite you in the ass.”
― Katrina Kwan, Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love

“Berto." Voice like ice.
"Maggie, cara mia!" Voice like fire.
He leapt forward to embrace her, but she held up her hand, her face grave. I noticed she'd freshened her lipstick, though. No dummy, that one.
"Back off! I am not going to forgive you, so don't fritter your charm. You broke my heart and sent me flying home like a kicked dog." Maggie was just warming up. "I fled my home, my work, my friends. Every single person we know, our colleagues, our neighbors, knew I had been thrown over for a younger woman and pitied me. I am not to be pitied, Berto. I am a proud and beautiful woman, and I am the one who should be pitying you. But I don't pity you, because you made your own bed. Now go back to Italy and lie in it. Alone.”
― Abbi Waxman, The Garden of Small Beginnings

“And then someone asks if Callum is as skilled in the bedroom as he is in the kitchen. That's when my blood turns to magma.
I slam my hand on top of the metal countertop. "Listen the hell up!"
My shout silences every last one of the vloggers. The high schooler looks on with a shocked expression and mutters, "Yes, ma'am."
"My personal life isn't up for discussion. I'm also not interested in name-dropping any of you in a commercial when you've been harassing me and my customers every day since the festival. I'm here to cook and serve food, and you goddamn piranhas are crowding around my truck, making it impossible for my mother and me to serve our customers. Either get the hell out of the way so my customers can order, or else."
There's silence, followed by soft mutters. A scrawny, white guy in the back of the crowd tucks his phone into his pocket and crosses his arms, stubborn written across his frown. "Or else what?"
Leaning my head back, I puff out all the hot air pent up in my body. He's the pissant who asked about Callum's bedroom performance. I swipe a bottle of lemon-lime soda from the counter and give it a dozen of the most violent shakes I can manage. I stomp out of the truck and up to the offending vlogger.
Even when I'm standing two inches from him, he has the audacity to smirk. But when I twist off the cap, a stream of soda smashes him square in the face. My frustration dissipates with each violent burst of carbonated liquid.”
― Sarah Smith, Simmer Down

“As I turned around to head back to the outdoor patio, my elbow poked the guy next to me. Unlike Daniel, this guy had a higher squish-to-muscle ratio.
"I'm sorry," I squeaked as I maneuvered around him.
"Watch where you're going," he grumbled while looking me up and down. As I walked away, he muttered, "Stuck-up bitch."
My mouth fell open, searching for words. The alcohol clouded my brain, making it hard to know how to respond.
"The only stuck-up bitch here is you," Daniel said and walked closer to the aggressor. "She said she was sorry. I believe you owe her an apology."
"I don't owe her shit. You and your girlfriend can get the fuck outta my face." He turned to his entourage and made a face that made them laugh.
Why that seemed like the best time to jump into the conversation, I don't know, but it did. "Look, you walking Dockers pants model, I said I was sorry. And you're a fucking asshole to talk to someone that way----ANY human that way---in the holiest, Dolly-est place on earth, well, second to Dollywood." I wagged my index finger in his face. "I have another apology for you. I'm sorry you took an innocent bump of an elbow into your beer pooch and tried to turn it into a personal attack. And I'm sorry to your friends for having a loser who drags down their social circle.”
― Suzanne Park, So We Meet Again

“Birdie, this is for adults to figure out.”
Birdie planted her feet where she stood. “I am an adult.”
Walter shook his head. “You don't know what that means.” He stood up to walk off the porch. Birdie blocked his way.
“I know it means carrying the load with Mom gone. I know it means all the work I did all summer, doing your office work, directing the harvest, making sure the tractors were running. I know it means picking up the slack and all the things you weren’t doing.”
Walter shook his head at her. “Birdie, shut your mouth….”
“Does it mean giving up? Because that’s what you did, you know.” Her voice broke all along the syllables of the words.
Walter’s hands shot out and grasped her shoulders. “Go up to your room. I don't want to see you….”
“You don’t see me anyway. You know, I spend the night with a guy, Dad. Is that adult enough for you?”
― Jodi Lynn Anderson, Peaches

“Your restaurant never would have survived in that area. Where it is now, over there in Tremé, is much more suited for your type of establishment."
She straightened her shoulders. "Forgive me for being so bold, Mr. Fenner, but I happen to disagree. I think my restaurant would thrive no matter where it's located. And I haven't given up on the riverfront. Me and my daddy are gonna eventually open an even bigger restaurant one day. In fact, we plan to open several."
She gave him a sweet smile as she hefted her basket of vegetables up higher on her forearm. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have a very big night ahead. If you would like some good food and good jazz music, might I suggest you come over to Tremé and give T&J's Supper Club a try? The doors are always open to anyone.”
― Farrah Rochon, Almost There

“Setting a boundary” means protecting your joy and well-being by telling someone to stop a harmful behavior. Practice setting a boundary try saying: “I can’t let you x. I need y.”
― Lauren Martin, Anger is a Storm

“Never, ever regret taking a stand,” Grandma said. “It takes strength and courage and it can be lonely, but at least you fought for a better world. That’s more than you can say if you keep quiet.”
― Jack A. Ori, Reinventing Hannah

“Standing up for yourself is not something you do once and never again. Sometimes you have to fight the same fight over and over until something gives.”
― Jack A. Ori, Reinventing Hannah

“I don't need your byline and your health benefits. I am the future, and you are the past.”
― Amanda Elliot, Best Served Hot

“Mamá. I have spent my entire life doing what is right. I went to church every Sunday, I worked in the fields, I got straight A's in school, I went to college and commuted home to save on bills and preserve my reputation, and I even raised enough money to buy the farm so I could take care of the family. But now, I want some freedom because I've earned it. I don't want to be courted and married to some man I don't even know if I'm compatible with. I don't even know if I want to get married. Ever. It's fine if Blanca feels comfortable preserving this tradition--- but I don't. Not even if it makes you happy."
Mamá's eyes bugged, and she yelled at her eldest daughter. "You will not disrespect me in my house!"
Carolina laughed. "Well, it's my house, actually. But that's fine. I don't need it."
Blanca's jaw dropped. "Cari! Stop."
"No. I should've done this years ago." Carolina turned and walked toward the living room.
"Carolina! Get back here at once!" her mom called out, but she didn't respond.
Enrique was sitting at the dining room table, wringing his hands, his forehead wrinkled, his fists clenched.
Her father had him cornered. "So, Enrique, do you see yourself married in the next year?"
Being interrogated by Papá was something Carolina wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
"Enrique, let's go."
Enrique's brows raised as he stood. "Where?"
Carolina looked at her father, then back to Enrique, then back to her father. She had created this fake relationship as a ruse to keep her family happy. What she was about to do would instead possibly tear them apart--- but it had to be done. Enrique had made her want things she hadn't really wanted with another man before.
There was no going back. The time was now.
"Out on a real date.”
― Alana Albertson, Kiss Me, Mi Amor

“Someone needs to be concerned about those girls."
"Kara and Kendra know that I am only a phone call away."
"Would you even answer the phone if you're laid up under some man?"
Line. Crossed.
Ashanti closed the distance between them, until she was barely a foot away. "Apparently, you didn't hear me the first time," she said. "Who I fuck is none of your business."
Anita gasped, her head snapping back. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out.
"I should petition the courts!" she finally screeched. "Get those girls away from you!"
"Try it," Ashanti said.
"You shouldn't be raising my brother's children!"
"I am tired of your bullshit, Anita. You hadn't talked to your 'beloved' brother for over three years before he died. I know my dad tried to contact you, and you ignored him."
"He was not your father!"
"Fuck you! He is my father. He loved me and treated me like his own flesh and blood. You, on the other hand, who actually was his flesh and blood, didn't want anything to do with him until he was buried in the ground. And all because he took your mother's dishes."
"It was her wedding china and it was mine!" Anita said. "And it has nothing to do with you."
"No, it doesn't. I don't care why you cut your own brother out of your life. What I do care about are my sisters. You talk about wanting to raise Kara and Kendra? You live an hour away and saw them five times in the first ten years of their lives.
"I know what this is, it's guilt," Ashanti continued. "But you don't get to alleviate the shame and regret you feel at the way you treated your own brother by making my sisters' lives hell.”
― Farrah Rochon, Pardon My Frenchie

“You don't belong in Jack's world, and he doesn't belong in yours. My advice is to get out while you can."
I glared at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "You think you know everything about me, but I'm not a nice girl. I've done bad things. I've been arrested, handcuffed, and interrogated in the police station as an accessory to crime. I've broken laws. I've been threatened, kidnapped, tied up, and was an active participant in a high-speed car chase. I know who Jack is. I have a good idea about what he does. And I can make my own decision about whether we're good together or not, which, by the way, we are, subject to smoothing out a few wrinkles."
George chuckled. "So, you're saying that what you see isn't what you get. You're no lightweight."
"Damn right.”
― Sara Desai, 'Til Heist Do Us Part

“According to you, I'm manly because I play football, but I'm unmanly because I own a cupcake shop. Which is it? I'm the same person."
Dude's mouth flopped open like a guppy's.
August still didn't care. "Also, according to you, baking is women's work, which means it's beneath a man to do. Did you know cupcakes is a three-billion-dollar industry? You know who made that happen? Women. Women who knew that bringing joy to people's lives was a worthy endeavor."
He unleashed all the words he bottled up every time he spoke to his dad.
"You think men have to live up to this ridiculous, harmful definition of what being a man is. Heaven forbid people be happy and do what they want. My partners-- also manly football players, by the way-- and I decided to open a shop because the women in our lives shared the joy of baking with us, and in our small way we're continuing and honoring their legacy. We are doing our damnedest to be men the women in our lives can be proud of. So I suggest you go and try and to do the same.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“This is what happens when we band together." She pointed at the cup. "When we work as a unified crew. This is what we are capable of." The more she spoke, the stronger her voice grew. "This cup proves that together, this kitchen can be great enough to best the king's own cooks."
She squared her shoulders and whispered a silent prayer. "Now you have to decide what you want. Because you only have one choice. Either you work with me, or you don't work at all. Not in the queen's kitchen."
The meat assistant looked at her blankly. "You can't do that."
"I can. That's what Cook means when he says I am in charge. Your behavior--- yours and the rest of the assistants--- has not been disrespectful of me alone. You have disrespected the Cook, who made the decision in the first place. And you have disrespected the queen, who has had to eat at your handiwork. I might put up with what you do to me. But I will not put up with that."
She pointed to the gold cup again. "You can be a part of that. You can help me create great things. Or you can leave. Consider carefully before you choose.”
― Tessa Afshar, The Queen's Cook

“Don't pay any mind to Delilah. Our grandma Belle calls her ornery."
Which is why I liked Grandma Maeve better.
The nasty boy looked at me from under the inky fringe of his bangs when he answered her. "It does."
I blew a raspberry. "Stating an opinion contrary to others isn't being ornery; it's called having a working brain. Sorry you two don't know anything about that.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Some of us know that looks aren't everything, Con Man." Because that's what he was--- a perfect con, tricking others into believing he should be adored. "Beauty fades, and the ugliness inside you will eventually show."
He straightened then, looming over me with a sneer. "I suppose you're one those people who sees past beauty and only loves someone for their personality?"
I felt the setup. I just didn't know where it was going or how to avoid it. I thrust my chin high and played it cool. "I am."
He nodded as if confirming something only he knew before leaning in close. When most boys back then smelled of an overabundance of supermarket body spray, Macon smelled of cedar soap and do-me pheromones. "Tell me, Tater Tot, is it a beautiful soul you're looking at when you moon over the half-naked-firefighters calendar you have pinned in your room?"
All the blood rushed from my face, leaving painful prickles in its wake.
Macon's smile was cutting. "I don't believe for a second that you like Hayes for his riveting personality. You act all high and mighty while you're as susceptible to good looks as the rest of us. At least I have the guts to admit it.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“You might have them all fooled, but I know the truth. You are ugly on the inside. A worthless soul who will never find redemption.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“Don't pay any mind to Delilah. Our grandma Belle calls her ornery."
Which is why I liked Grandma Maeve better.
Sam's cute nose wrinkled then. "I think that just means grumpy."
The nasty boy looked at me from under the inky fringe of his bangs when he answered her. "It does."
I blew a raspberry. "Stating an opinion contrary to others isn't being ornery; it's called having a working brain. Sorry you two don't know anything about that.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“I'm very proud of you, mon amour. I know it isn't your nature to make people uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. Sometimes it's necessary, though, and you're settling a wonderful example for Zoe by standing up for yourself when need be.”
― Cleo White, Second Edition

“First of all, I'm an adult. A human being. Not a fucking baton you can simply pass back to my family once the going gets tough. Second, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Get that through your thick skull. I didn't need you, my family, or anyone else in the world to watch over me, or wait on me hand and foot." I paused. "And finally, I don't need someone who gives up on me after one hypo episode. Yes, they can be fatal. But it won't be if you learn how to manage them. It's not an excuse to freak out and pull the plug on a relationship. Do you know how many I've had since I was diagnosed? Hundreds. Maybe even thousands. And there's probably another few thousand in my future. It's part and parcel of having diabetes." I took a deep breath. "Obviously you're not the man I thought you were, because if you can't handle that, then we can't be together. I need someone who can be there for me, who's resilient enough to go through the ups and downs with me, because trust me, there will be plenty of them.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Until you realize you need to stop controlling my life, you can't be a part of it, and I can't be a part of yours."
She placed her cup back on the table, her gaze furious. "That's not the correct response. I'll give you five minutes to reconsider your answer."
"That was the right answer, and my final one. I'm staying, and no amount of emotional or physical blackmail can change my mind."
She let out a loud, impatient sigh. "Stop being dramatic. You're always acting as if I'm doing something horrible, but you know I'm only looking out for your best interests."
"No, you're not. All you care about is the family business, the status and privileges that come with it. You don't care about my best interests or my happiness."
Her tone turned frosty. "Listen carefully, Ellie. I'm saving you from making a terrible mistake. If you're doing this for him, it's not a smart decision, and you'll regret it. You don't belong here, and people like us don't belong with people like Alec Mackenzie."
"I'm doing this for myself." My tone rose. "You may not care, but I have a life here. I'm running my own business. I truly appreciate everything you've done for me and our family, but it's clear that you value the family business more than your own child. I've had enough of living my life being controlled and suffocated by you. It's time for you to move on.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“When you stand up for yourself, you never know if you’re standing up for someone who isn’t ready to do the same. And you might be giving them the courage to do it somewhere down the road. And when they do, they help someone else. And it keeps on going down the line.”
― T.J. Klune, How to Be a Movie Star

“Then I am sorry for you, mistress," I said evenly. "But that has nothing to do to me. Do not dare to assume you know my mind or history. That is insolence and I will not have it. I will not be your scapegoat!" And with that I turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the street.”
― C.J. Sansom, Sovereign