Quotes About Shame

The Morning Paper Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition is the best for by evening you now that you at least have lived through another day) and let the disasters, the unbelievable yet approved decisions soak in. I don't need to name the countries, ours among them. What keeps us from falling down, our faces to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?

have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame.

To understand the cautious respect for the dead that pervades the modern anatomy lab, it helps to understand the extreme lack of it that pervades the field's history. Few sciences are as rooted in shame, infamy, and bad PR as human anatomy.

Few sciences are as rooted in shame, infamy, and bad PR as human anatomy. The troubles began in Alexandrian Egypt, circa 300 B.C. King Ptolemy I was the first leader to deem it a-okay for medical types to cut open the dead for the purpose of figuring out how bodies work.

ignominious grave, and I the cause! A thousand times

Why, that requires not this preparation; ye need not have come thus far and dragged your captain to the shame of a defeat merely to prove yourselves cowards.

happy are women that can weep, and in a passionate caress disburthen the oppression of their feelings; shame and habitual restraint hold back a man.

You hate me; but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself

Trump acted at once the emperor and the boy who said that the emperor has no clothes, ripping the illusory cover of decency off the system, forcing everyone to stare at its obscene nature. Unlike the emperor in the fairy tale, though, Trump felt no shame and so was not transformed by the exposure—rather, he transformed the system, once again stripping away the moral aspiration of politics.

History is full of other hidden foundations too long unexamined, old ways that people could not part with, practices about which they were proud and sure and defiant when they should have been ashamed.

Shame is like melting. You can actually feel your muscles sag and drop, as if your body is preparing you to crawl, or possibly ooze, to the nearest exit.

We are fornicating in the sight of six billion people.

There's a particular kind of people I despise. Those who seek some higher purpose or 'universal goal', those who do not know what to live for, who moan that they 'must find themselves.' You hear it all around us. That seems to be the official bromide of our century. Every book you open. Every drooling self-confession. It seems to be the noble thing to confess. I think it would be the most shameful one.

The punishment she had wanted to inflict on him was the torture of shame; what she had inflicted was the torture of boredom.

ideário dos saqueadores fez com que pessoas como o senhor passassem a encarar suas maiores realizações como um estigma vergonhoso, sua prosperidade como culpa, seus maiores filhos, os industriais, como vilões

If this is what has beaten us, he thought, the guilt is ours.

A healthy, dose of guilt never hurt anybody. It's what civilization was built on, guilt. A highly underrated emotion.

Still, I strongly resisted the idea of offering up my past in a book, a past that left me feeling exposed, even slightly ashamed.

On top of my sorrow, I felt a great shame.

I dropped to the ground and swept my hand across the smooth yellow tile. Oh, Father, I cried. There was no shame in your confusion. Just as there had been no shame in your father's before you. No shame in the fear, or in the fear of his father before him. There was only shame in the silence fear had produced. It was the silence that betrayed us.

There was no shame in your confusion. Just as there had been no shame in your father's before you. No shame in the fear, or in the fear of his father before him. There was only shame in the silence fear had produced. It was the silence that betrayed us.

She wanted to go back, to clean it all up, to rewrite her story without all the dark parts, to unknow the things she knew, to unsee the things she'd seen, to live without her memories, her shame, her regret. And maybe that was a kind of atonement, after all. But none of those things were possible.

At best the family teaches the finest things human beings can learn from one another generosity and love. But it is also, all too often, where we learn nasty things like hate, rage and shame.

I understood that no one could have lobbed such a stinging wad of shame out into the world without having a considerable personal reserve of it to draw on.