It is a socialist idea that making profits is a vice; I consider the real vice is making losses.
Winston ChurchillRead
When we judge or criticize another person, it says nothing about that person; it merely says something about our own need to be critical.
Interpretation
Judging others reflects more on our own character than on the person we criticize.
This quote by Winston Churchill highlights the idea that when we criticize or judge someone else, it reveals our own insecurities and tendencies rather than providing any valid insight into the person we are judging. It suggests that our critical nature stems from our internal struggles and that we should be more aware of our own faults before pointing out those of others.
In practice
During a workshop on self-awareness, this quote can be used to encourage participants to reflect on their judgments.
It is a socialist idea that making profits is a vice; I consider the real vice is making losses.
The United States is like a gigantic boiler. Once the fire is lit under it, there's no limit to the power it can generate.
Politics is almost as exciting as war, and quite as dangerous. In war you can only be killed once, but in politics many times.
I will not pretend that if I had to choose between communism and Nazism I would choose communism.
Mountaintops inspire leaders but valleys mature them.
True genius resides in the capacity for evaluation of uncertain, hazardous, and conflicting information.
The desert could not be claimed or owned β it was a piece of cloth carried by winds, never held down by stones, and given a hundred shifting names before Canterbury existed, long before battles and treaties quilted Europe and the East ... All of us, even those with European homes and children in the distance, wished to remove the clothing of our countries. It was a place of faith. We disappeared into landscape.
Historians are prophets with their face turned backward.
The real cause of hunger is the powerlessness of the poor to gain access to the resources they need to feed themselves.
Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
The blind have no notion of time. The things of time are hidden from them too.
Reproach is infinite, and knows no end So voluble a weapon is the tongue; Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail For every man has equal strength to rail.
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