"I used to suffer from excessive pride. Well, I got over that one"
About this Quote
A wry confession that doubles back on itself, the line plays with the paradox of declaring oneself cured of pride. To announce you are no longer excessively proud risks sounding like a boast, and Francesca Annis leans into that irony with a light shrug: Well, I got over that one. The humor comes from the self-awareness that pride is not something you simply drop like a bad habit; the very claim of victory can be a fresh expression of it.
There is also a subtle distinction between pride in its healthy form and pride in excess. Artists, and actors in particular, need a core of confidence to step onstage, to endure rejection, and to own their choices. Excessive pride, however, hardens into vanity or defensiveness, making growth and collaboration difficult. The quip suggests an evolution from brittle self-importance toward a steadier self-possession. It is not renunciation of self-worth; it is a loosening of ego.
Framing pride as something one suffers from turns a moral failing into a human affliction, something experienced rather than merely condemned. That softens the admission, inviting empathy rather than judgment, and it mirrors the British taste for self-deprecating wit. The little pause in Well creates timing that disarms; it casts the confession as anecdote rather than absolution.
For a performer with a long career on stage and screen, such humor signals resilience. Longevity requires the ability to listen, to adapt, to accept criticism without collapsing or lashing out. Claiming to have gotten over excessive pride hints at lessons learned from experience without lapsing into piety. It gives the audience the pleasure of watching someone puncture their own balloon.
Behind the joke sits an old truth from drama and myth: hubris courts downfall. Annis keeps that truth in play while refusing solemnity. The line becomes a small act of balance, holding confidence and humility at once, and acknowledging that the struggle with pride is never wholly finished, even when you have the grace to laugh at it.
There is also a subtle distinction between pride in its healthy form and pride in excess. Artists, and actors in particular, need a core of confidence to step onstage, to endure rejection, and to own their choices. Excessive pride, however, hardens into vanity or defensiveness, making growth and collaboration difficult. The quip suggests an evolution from brittle self-importance toward a steadier self-possession. It is not renunciation of self-worth; it is a loosening of ego.
Framing pride as something one suffers from turns a moral failing into a human affliction, something experienced rather than merely condemned. That softens the admission, inviting empathy rather than judgment, and it mirrors the British taste for self-deprecating wit. The little pause in Well creates timing that disarms; it casts the confession as anecdote rather than absolution.
For a performer with a long career on stage and screen, such humor signals resilience. Longevity requires the ability to listen, to adapt, to accept criticism without collapsing or lashing out. Claiming to have gotten over excessive pride hints at lessons learned from experience without lapsing into piety. It gives the audience the pleasure of watching someone puncture their own balloon.
Behind the joke sits an old truth from drama and myth: hubris courts downfall. Annis keeps that truth in play while refusing solemnity. The line becomes a small act of balance, holding confidence and humility at once, and acknowledging that the struggle with pride is never wholly finished, even when you have the grace to laugh at it.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
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