Quotes About Shame

She hadn't thought anything could squeeze past the pain in her head, the ache in her stomach, the sizzle of shame in her blood. But she hadn't counted on despair. Somehow despair always made room for itself.

Tyler, I can recommend a good therapist. There's absolutely no shame in seeking help for mental instability. I'll keep it in mind. God knows I haven't been clear in the head since I got tangled up with you. We can make an appointment together, after you move in. I'm not moving in with you. Yes, you are.

There was a time in our very recent history when it was "interesting" to be a Star Wars fan. It was sort of like admitting you masturbate twice a day or that your favorite band was They Might Be Giants. Star Wars was something everyone of a certain age secretly loved but never openly recognized

Just let yourself be broken and humiliated. Just your whole life, keep telling people, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...

How I feel is cheap and used, dirty and humiliated. Dirty and tricked and thrown away.

Face it, dude. You nearly did sex on God's table. You're already shame spiralling big-time.

I'm the dick that killed Cassie Lynn Wright.

The closest thing that comes to how the day felt is when you wipe back to front. You're on the toilet. You're not thinking, and you smear shit on the back of your hanging-down wrinkled ball skin. The more you try to wipe it clean, the skin stretches and the mess keeps getting bigger. The thin layer of shit spreads into the hair and down your thighs. That's how a day like this, how it feels to keep secret.

As if she ought to know better than to scream and bleed in public.

Algunos actos son demasiado bajos hasta para tener nombre. Demasiado bajos para hablar de ellos.

Next, I'm holding a bag of clothes, being herded toward an open door filled with sunlight. My briefs are still looped around my ankles, so I'm waddling, my erection swinging in front of me like a blind man's cane, and the talent wrangler has the nerve to say, 'Thank you for coming...

That fucking asshole has figured out something we haven't. Two words: white victimhood. That's it. He can tap into that like he's a, a, a, I dunno, but that's what it is. That's the gas he's putting in his car to make it go, and he's going to beat us in the primary because of it. He's got no shame, and that's how he wins.

My motivation, even in anticipated shame, lay always in others. You can take the woman out of the upstairs, but you can't take the upstairs out of her.

You really are an incorrigible little slut girl, aren't you?

Be selfish, be unreasonable, and don't worry about it. We're girls, so we are allowed. Being a girl is a privilege, and we should take full advantage of that fact. We have the right and the duty to act as we please. But a boy who makes a girl cry is worthless and he brings shame into the romance and makes it untrue.

We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.

Meaning is always a latecomer. Beauty and music seduce us first; later ashamed of our own sensuality, we insist on meaning.

He got to his feet and stumbled away from the stench of his vomit, making his way through this graveyard of old glories, heading for the darkest place he could find in which to hide his giddy head.

You've got blood on your hands, and you smell of coitus.

Certaines étoiles mettent plus de temps que d'autre à apparaître. Le paradoxe est le suivant : plus il fait nuit, plus ces secrets deviennent visibles. Pour finir, ils se déploient dans toute leur splendeur ; et ce sont ces choses même que nous dissimulons, ces choses dont nous avons le plus honte, dont nous nous servons pour nous guider.

As Maeve hurried from the study, she turned and took one last look at her father and Boudicca, whom she always thought of as her sister, an older sibling who remained distant and seldom displayed anything but animosity, but a sister nonetheless. Her father had kept the secret well, enduring the shame and hiding it from the world. It sickened her to discover after all these years that Boudicca was a man.

Sometimes such an experience bound one person to another; just as often the shame of one's powerlessness made all witnesses into enemies.

in the slow motion that is the speed of humiliation.

They were treated to the same Randall hospitality, the travesties so routine and familiar that they were a kind of weather, and the ones so imaginative in their monstrousness that the mind refused to accommodate them. Sometimes such an experience bound one person to another; just as often the shame of one's powerlessness made all witnesses into enemies.