Humiliation

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 23 of 38 · 20 per page

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  A skillful song, or a didactic or reflective poem. 1 W E HAVE heard with our ears, O God, Our fathers have told us The work You did in their days, In the days of old. 2 You drove out the [pagan] nations with Your own hand; Then you planted and established them (Israel); [It was by Your power that] You uprooted the [pagan] peoples, Then You spread them abroad. 3 For our fathers did not possess the land [of Canaan] by their own sword, Nor did their own arm save them, But Your right hand and Your arm and the light of Your presence, Because You favored and delighted in them. 4 You are my King, O God; Command victories and deliverance for Jacob (Israel). 5 Through You we will gore our enemies [like a bull]; Through Your name we will trample down those who rise up against us. 6 For I will not trust in my bow, Nor will my sword save me. 7 But You have saved us from our enemies, And You have put them to shame and humiliated those who hate us. 8 In God we have boasted all the day long, And we will praise and give thanks to Your name forever. Selah. 9 But now You have rejected us and brought us to dishonor, And You do not go out with our armies [to lead us to victory]. 10 You make us turn back from the enemy, And those who hate us have taken spoil for themselves. 11 You have made us like sheep to be eaten [as mutton] And have scattered us [in exile] among the nations. 12 You sell Your people cheaply, And have not increased Your wealth by their sale. 13 You have made us the reproach and taunt of our neighbors, A scoffing and a derision to those around us. 14 You make us a byword among the nations, A a laughingstock among the people. 15 My dishonor is before me all day long, And humiliation has covered my face, 16 Because of the voice of the taunter and reviler, Because of the presence of the enemy and the avenger. 17 All this has come upon us, yet we have not forgotten You, Nor have we been false to Your covenant [which You made with our fathers]. 18 Our heart has not turned back, Nor have our steps wandered from Your path, 19 Yet You have [distressingly] crushed us in the place of jackals And covered us with [the deep darkness of] the shadow of death. 20 If we had forgotten the name of our God Or stretched out our hands to a strange god, 21 Would not God discover this? For He knows the secrets of the heart. 22 b But for Your sake we are killed all the day long; We are considered as sheep to be slaughtered. [Rom 8:35–39 ] 23 Awake! Why do You sleep, O Lord? Awaken, do not reject us forever.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  17 “But your eyes and your heart Are only intent on your own dishonest gain, On shedding innocent blood, On oppression and extortion and violence.” 18 Therefore thus says the LORD in regard to a Jehoiakim the [second] son of Josiah, king of Judah, “The relatives will not lament (mourn over with expressions of grief) for him: ‘Alas, my brother!’ or, ‘Alas, sister,’ [how great our loss]! The subjects will not lament for him: ‘Alas, master!’ or ‘Alas, majesty [how great was his glory]!’ 19 “b He shall be buried with the burial of a donkey— Dragged off and thrown out beyond the gates of Jerusalem. 20 “Go up [north] to Lebanon and cry out, And raise your voice in [the hills of] Bashan [across the Jordan]; Cry out also from c Abarim, For all your lovers (allies) have been destroyed. [Jer 27:6 , 7 ] 21 “I spoke to you in your [times of] prosperity, But you said, ‘I will not listen!’ This has been your attitude and practice from your youth; You have not obeyed My voice. 22 “The wind [of adversity] will carry away all your shepherds (rulers, statesmen), And your lovers (allies) will go into exile. Surely then you will be ashamed and humiliated and disgraced Because of all your wickedness. 23 “O inhabitant of [Jerusalem, whose palaces are made from the cedars of] Lebanon, You who nest in the cedars, How you will groan and how miserable you will be when pains come on you, Pain like a woman in childbirth! [1 Kin 7:2 ] 24 “As I live,” says the LORD , “though d Coniah the son of Jehoiakim king of Judah were the signet [ring] on My right hand, yet would I pull you (Coniah) off. 25 “And I will place you in the hand of those who seek your life and in the hand of those whom you fear, even into the hand of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon and into the hand of the e Chaldeans. 26 “I will hurl you and the mother who gave you birth into another country where you were not born, and there you will die. 27 “But as for the land to which they long to return, they will not return to it. 28 “Is this man [King] Coniah a despised, broken jar? Is he a vessel in which no one takes pleasure? Why are he and his [royal] descendants hurled out And cast into a land which they do not know or understand? 29 “O land, land, land, Hear the word of the LORD !

• From Another Country (1962)

  He walked about the room—in order, she sensed, not to come too close to her, not to touch her; he did not know what would happen if he did. She covered her face with one hand. She thought of the ginger-colored boy and the Puerto Rican, Eric blazed up in her mind for a moment, like salvation. She thought of the field of flowers. Then she thought of the children, and her stomach contracted again. And the pain in her stomach somehow defeated lucidity. She said, and knew, obscurely, as she said it, that she was making a mistake, was delivering herself up, “Stop torturing yourself about Vivaldo—we have not been sleeping together.” He came close to the chair she sat in. She did not look up. “I know that you’ve always admired Vivaldo. More than you admire me.” There was a terrible mixture of humility and anger in his tone, and her heart shook; she saw what he was trying to accept. She almost looked up to reach out to him, to help him and comfort him, but something made her keep still. She said, “Admiration and love are very different.” “Are they? I’m not so sure. How can you touch a woman if you know she despises you? And if a woman admires a man, what is it, really, that she admires? A woman who admires you will open her legs for you at once, shell give you anything she’s got.” She felt his heat and his presence above her like a cloud; she bit one knuckle. “You did—you did, for me, don’t you remember? Won’t you come back?” Then she did look up at him, tears falling down her face. “Oh, Richard. I don’t know if I can.” “Why? Do you despise me so much?” She looked down, twisting the handkerchief. He squatted beside the chair. “I’m sorry we’ve got so far apart—I really don’t even know how it happened, but I guess I got mad at you because—because you seemed to have so little respect for”—he tried to laugh—“my success. Maybe you’re right, I don’t know. I know you’re smarter than I am, but how are we going to eat, baby, what else can I do? Maybe I shouldn’t have let myself get so jealous of Vivaldo, but it seemed so logical, once I thought about it. Once I thought about it, I thought about it all the time. I know he must be alone a lot, and—and you’ve been alone.” She looked at him, looked away. He put one hand on her arm; she bit her lip to control her trembling. “Come back to me, please. Don’t you love me any more? You can’t have stopped loving me. I can’t live without you. You’ve always been the only woman in the world for me.”

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  [Prov 13:9 ; 24:20 ] 6 “The light will be dark in his tent, And his lamp beside him will be put out. [Ps 18:28 ] 7 “The vigorous stride will be shortened, And his own counsel and the scheme [in which he trusted] will bring his downfall. 8 “For the wicked is thrown into a net by his own feet (wickedness), And he steps on the webbing [of the lattice-covered pit]. 9 “A snare catches him by the heel, And a trap snaps shut on him. 10 “A noose is hidden for him on the ground, And a trap for him on the path. 11 “Terrors frighten him on every side And chase at his heels. 12 “The strength [of the wicked] is famished and weakened, And disaster is ready at his side [if he stops]. 13 “His skin is devoured by disease; The firstborn of death [the worst of diseases] consumes his limbs. 14 “He is torn from his tent which he trusted [for safety], And he is marched and brought to the king of terrors (death). 15 “Nothing of his dwells in his tent; Brimstone (burning sulfur) is scattered over his dwelling [to purify it]. 16 “The roots [of the wicked] are dried up below, And above, his branch is cut off and withers. 17 “Memory of him perishes from the earth, And he has no name on the street. 18 “He is driven and propelled from light into darkness, And chased from the inhabited world. 19 “He has no offspring or prosperity among his people, Nor any survivor where he sojourned. 20 “Those in the west are astonished and appalled at his fate, And those in the east are seized with horror. 21 “Surely such are the dwellings of the wicked and the ungodly, And such is the place of him who does not know or recognize or honor God.” Job 19 Job Feels Insulted 1 T HEN JOB answered and said, 2 “How long will you torment and exasperate me And crush me with words? 3 “These ten times you have insulted me; You are not ashamed to wrong me [and harden your hearts against me]. 4 “And if it were true that I have erred, My error would remain with me [and I would be conscious of it]. 5 “If indeed you [braggarts] vaunt and magnify yourselves over me And prove my disgrace (humiliation) to me, 6 Know then that God has wronged me and overthrown me And has closed His net around me. Everything Is Against Him 7 “Behold, I cry out, ‘Violence!’ but I am not heard; I shout for help, but there is no justice. 8 “He has walled up my way so that I cannot pass, And He has set darkness upon my paths. 9 “He has stripped me of my honor And removed the crown from my head. 10 “He breaks me down on every side, and I am gone; He has uprooted my hope like a tree.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Now Bruno and Buffalmacco were come to join Filippo and all three heard and saw all this. As Calandrino was now offering to kiss Niccolosa perforce, up came Nello with Dame Tessa and said, as soon as he reached the place, 'I vow to God they are together.' Then, coming up to the door of the barn, the lady, who was all a-fume with rage, dealt it such a push with her hands that she sent it flying, and entering, saw Niccolosa astride of Calandrino. The former, seeing the lady, started up in haste and taking to flight, made off to join Filippo, whilst Dame Tessa fell tooth and nail upon Calandrino, who was still on his back, and clawed all his face; then, clutching him by the hair and haling him hither and thither, 'Thou sorry shitten cur,' quoth she, 'dost thou then use me thus? Besotted dotard that thou art, accursed be the weal I have willed thee! Marry, seemeth it to thee thou hast not enough to do at home, that thou must go wantoning it in other folk's preserves? A fine gallant, i'faith! Dost thou not know thyself, losel that thou art? Dost thou not know thyself, good for nought? Wert thou to be squeezed dry, there would not come as much juice from thee as might suffice for a sauce. Cock's faith, thou canst not say it was Tessa that was presently in act to get thee with child, God make her sorry, who ever she is, for a scurvy trull as she must be to have a mind to so fine a jewel as thou!' Calandrino, seeing his wife come, abode neither dead nor alive and had not the hardihood to make any defence against her; but, rising, all scratched and flayed and baffled as he was, and picking up his bonnet, he fell to humbly beseeching her leave crying out, an she would not have him cut in pieces, for that she who had been with him was the wife of the master of the house; whereupon quoth she, 'So be it, God give her an ill year.' At this moment, Bruno and Buffalmacco, having laughed their fill at all this, in company with Filippo and Niccolosa, came up, feigning to be attracted by the clamour, and having with no little ado appeased the lady, counselled Calandrino betake himself to Florence and return thither no more, lest Filippo should get wind of the matter and do him a mischief. Accordingly he returned to Florence, chapfallen and woebegone, all flayed and scratched, and never ventured to go thither again; but, being plagued and harassed night and day with his wife's reproaches, he made an end of his fervent love, having given much cause for laughter to his companions, no less than to Niccolosa and Filippo." THE SIXTH STORY [Day the Ninth]

• From Becoming Myself: A Psychiatrist's Memoir (2017)

  My mother drove me to the party but could not come to take me home, because Saturday night was the time the store was busiest. So, when the party was over, Judy and her mother drove me home. I felt such humiliation at the thought of them seeing my hovel of a home that I asked them to drop me off a few doors away at a modest but more presentable house and pretended that was where I lived. I stood on the front doorstep waving until they drove away. But I doubt that I fooled them. I cringe thinking about this. D R. Y ALOM: Let’s return to what you were saying earlier. Tell me more about your solitary bicycle rides in the Soldiers Home Park. I RVIN: It was a marvelous park, several hundred acres and very deserted except for a few buildings for sick or very old veterans. I think those bike rides are my very best childhood memories… coasting down long hills, wind in my face, feeling free, and reciting poetry aloud. My sister had taken a course in Victorian poetry at college. When she finished the course, I took her textbook and pored over it time and again, memorizing simple poems that had a strong beat, like Oscar Wilde’s “Ballad of Reading Gaol,” or some poems in Housman’s Shropshire Lad , like “Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now,” and “When I Was One and Twenty,” some verses from FitzGerald’s translation of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Byron’s “Prisoner of Chillon,” and poems by Tennyson. Kipling’s “Gunga Din” was one of my favorites, and I still have a phonograph record I made at a little recording shop near the baseball stadium when I was thirteen. On one side was my Bar Mitzvah speech (in English, of course), and on the reverse side were my recitation of “Gunga Din” and also Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade.” Yes, the more I think about it, I’d say those moments, coasting downhill chanting lines of poetry, have been my happiest times. D R. Y ALOM: Our time is about up, but before we stop, let me say that I appreciate the scope of the struggle you’re facing. You’re caught between two worlds: you neither know nor respect the old world, nor do you yet discern the gate to the new one. This generates a lot of anxiety, and you’re going to need a lot of psychotherapy to help you with that. I’m glad you decided to come see me—you’re resourceful and I have a strong premonition you’re going to be all right.

• From Confessions of the Flesh (The History of Sexuality, Vol. 4) (2021)

  Someone wishing to join the cenobium is first subjected to the big threshold test: he’s made to wait at the gate of the monastery, where he begs to enter; but, pretending to suspect nothing but selfish motives on his part, the monks rebuff him for ten days, “cover him with insults and reproaches,” to test his intention and his steadfastness. If he is accepted, his instruction unfolds in two phases. In the first, he’s assigned an elder, who “dwells apart, not far from the entrance to the monastery, in charge of strangers and guests”: there, he’s trained in service (famulatus), humility, and patience. After a whole year, if there have been no complaints about him, he’s incorporated into the community and placed with another elder, who is responsible for teaching and governing (instituere et gubernare) a group of ten young people. Cassian says nothing about the existence of a relationship of direction between the elders.42 On the one hand, nothing clearly suggests that the elders were expected to have recourse, whether regularly or occasionally, to a director. However, Cassian, like all the authors of his era, insists on the principle that every soul, without exception, needs direction43—that even after long exercises, even when one has a reputation for saintliness, there are still cases where one lapses,44 and that monks need to be directed till the end of their lives. On two occasions—in the Institutes and in the Conferences—Cassian recalls the great saintliness of Pinufius: the respect that surrounded him in his monastery deprived him of “the possibility of progressing in the virtue of submission to the degree that he aspired”; twice he flees in secret to take up the life of a novice again and is crestfallen when he’s discovered, lamenting that he can’t end his life in the submission he has acquired.45 The fact remains, for Cassian, that only one who has learned to obey and has acquired “through the education received from the elders, that which he will have to impart to the younger ones” can be called to command; but also the highest wisdom or, better, “the highest gift” of the Holy Spirit consists in the possibility of “directing others well” and “getting directed oneself.”46 The saint is not one who “self-directs”; it’s one who allows himself to be directed by God. A universality, therefore, of the relationship of direction. Even if there’s a phase of initiation into the monastic life where direction must take a dense, institutional form, organized by rules applying to all novices in common, the willingness to accept a direction, the readiness to be directed, is a constant that must characterize monastic life from beginning to end.47 Cassian indicates the two main aspects of this direction, and the way in which direction must be exercised.

• From Confessions of the Flesh (The History of Sexuality, Vol. 4) (2021)

  Now, this tendency to think of monastic existence as the very practice of the life of penitence accompanied an institutional evolution whose historical importance was considerable. The cenobitic discipline, the relations of hierarchy and obedience, the rules of life in common and of individual behavior gave more and more space to practices that can be called intermediary (between the great penitential rites and the perpetual examination of thoughts): these were practices, of a juridical and regulatory type moreover, that tend to define a code where specific sanctions are paired with specific infractions. Actually, this development is only sketched out in Cassian, where it is mainly a matter of showing how the smallest offenses are answered by acts of satisfaction that are at the same time harsh, public, and humiliating. Thus, one sees a monk on duty for the week who does public penance for having overlooked three lentils that fell to the floor,12 and Saint Jerome relates that in the three women’s monasteries directed by Paula, speech excesses were sanctioned by exclusion from the common table and standing upright at the refectory door.13 But a comparison between the Cenobitic Institutes and the Rule of the Master or that of Saint Benedict shows the increasing importance of these punitive codifications that establish between transgression and penitence a rather different relation from the preceding ones. Firstly, this relation includes a principle of proportionality: “The measure of excommunication or of chastisement should correspond to the degree of fault, which degree is estimated by the Abbot’s judgment.” It includes a clear distinction that separates public faults from those “whose matter is hidden.” The latter must be disclosed to the Abbot only and to a few elders capable of “attending to their own wounds and those of others.” Finally, it includes a principle of progressive correction (punishments are less severe if the guilty party is less than fifteen years old; the repeat offense alters the penalty; the Abbot lectures the delinquent and must watch over him in particular).14 In a word: the monastic institution, insofar as it presented itself as the place of permanent penitential life, deployed a whole ensemble of procedures designed to ensure the remission of evil—by expelling it, correcting it, or healing it. At one extreme one finds the ritualistic and ostentatious forms of exomologesis; at the other the techniques of examination and confession in the discourse of exagoreusis; and between them the methods for punishing according to a code that defines the gravity of the faults and the proportional punishments. Between the manifestation of the true through the “acts and gestures” of the penitential status (a sort of veri-fication) and its enunciation in a permanent relation of direction (veri-diction), the monastic rule brings into being what will later become, in Western Christianity, the most important form of the relation between the evil and the true, between “wrong-doing” and “truth-telling”—namely juri-diction. —

• From Another Country (1962)

  “Yes,” she said, with a terrible sobriety, “I know.” She lit a cigarette. The hand that held the match trembled. “But I’m trying not to be. I don’t know if there’s any hope for me or not.” She dropped the match on the table. “He made me sing with the band. They didn’t really want me to, and I didn’t want to, but they didn’t want to say No, to him. So I sang. And of course I knew some of the musicians and some of them had known Rufus. Baby, if musicians don’t want to work with you, they sure can make you know it. I sang Sweet Georgia Brown, and something else. I wanted to get off that stand in the worst way. When it was over, and the people were clapping, the bass player whispered to me, he said, ‘You black white man’s whore, don’t you never let me catch you on Seventh Avenue, you hear? I’ll tear your little black pussy up.’ And the other musicians could hear him, and they were grinning. ‘I’m going to do it twice, once for every black man you castrate every time you walk, and once for your poor brother, because I loved that stud. And he going to thank me for it, too, you can bet on that, black girl.’ And he slapped me on the ass, hard, everybody could see it and, you know, those people up there aren’t fools, and before I could get away, he grabbed my hand and raised it, and he said, ‘She’s the champion, ain’t she, folks? Talk about walking, this girl ain’t started walking!’ And he dropped my hand, hard, like it was too hot or too dirty, and I almost fell off the stand. And everybody laughed and cheered, they knew what he meant, and I did, too. And I got back to the table. Ellis was grinning like it was all a big joke. And it was. On me.” She rose, and poured herself a fresh drink.

• From Real Life (2020)

  C’est malheureux, mais c’est comme ça. » Wallace sent presque un goût de cendres dans sa bouche. Il dissèque un morceau de gratin et le mastique pensivement. Ses déficiences sont ce qu’elles sont, de fait. Il y a ses lacunes en biologie du développement, qu’il a comblées régulièrement au cours des dernières années, par l’étude et les cours. Il y avait aussi, les premières années, un manque d’expertise technique, qu’il a acquise grâce à la pratique. Mais la déficience à laquelle Roman fait allusion n’en fait pas partie, il ne s’agit pas de l’impréparation galopante et multiforme des étudiants qui arrivent en troisième cycle, dépassés par les exigences du programme, désarçonnés par les rituels bizarres et les rigueurs de l’étude. Ce dont parle Roman, c’est d’un déficit de blancheur, d’un manque de ressemblance requise. Cette déficience-là ne peut être comblée. Le fait est que, quels que soient l’ampleur des efforts fournis, les savoirs acquis et le nombre de techniques maîtrisées, il sera toujours provisoire aux yeux de ces gens, même s’ils ont de l’affection pour lui et lui témoignent de la gentillesse. « Je t’ai choqué ? demande Roman. Je veux juste être clair. Je trouve que tu devrais rester. Tu dois bien ça au département, tu ne crois pas ? — Je n’ai rien à répondre à ça, Roman », fait Wallace en souriant. Pour empêcher ses mains de trembler, il serre les poings jusqu’à ce que ses jointures se transforment en crêtes blanches sous la pression. « Eh bien réfléchis-y. — Je le ferai, merci. » Emma pose la tête sur l’épaule de Wallace, mais elle ne dit rien non plus, elle ne parvient pas à faire cet effort. Personne ne dit rien. Personne ne dit jamais rien. Le silence est leur manière de s’en sortir, car s’ils sont silencieux assez longtemps, ce moment d’inconfort mineur va passer pour eux, se fondre dans le paysage de la soirée comme s’il ne s’était jamais produit. Seul Wallace s’en souviendra. C’est ce qu’il y a de plus frustrant. Wallace est le seul pour qui c’est une humiliation. Il expire, souffrant le martyre, tentant de relâcher la pression dans sa poitrine. Roman murmure quelque chose à Klaus, et ils rient. « On peut revoir le vin, de ce côté ? » demande Lukas d’un ton à la fois poli et acerbe. Nathan lit les scores de la compétition de badminton à Singapour sur son téléphone. « Va falloir que vous veniez le chercher », fait Yngve, brandissant la bouteille en la faisant tourner doucement. « Passe-lui, enfin, fait Enid. C’est pas possible. » Lukas s’est déjà levé, et il longe la table du côté de Wallace pour s’approcher d’Yngve. Il tente d’attraper la bouteille, mais Yngve s’est levé d’un bond. « Va falloir être plus rapide », fait Yngve, et Lukas fléchit les jambes et saute pour tenter de l’attraper.

• From Another Country (1962)

  The church bells had ceased and the silence of the South hung heavy over that town. The trees along the walks gave no shade. The white houses, with their blank front doors, their blackly shadowed porches, seemed to be in battle with the sun, laboring and shuddering beneath the merciless light. Occasionally, passing a porch, one might discern in its depths a still, shadowed, faceless figure. The interminable pickaninnies were playing in the invincible dirt—where Eric was walking that day, on a back road, near the edge of town, with a colored boy. His name was LeRoy, he was seventeen, a year older than Eric, and he worked as a porter in the courthouse. He was tall and very black, and taciturn; Eric always wondered what he was thinking. They had been friends for a long time, from the time of Henry’s banishment. But now their friendship, their effort to continue an impossible connection, was beginning to be a burden for them both. It would have been simpler—perhaps—if LeRoy had worked for Eric’s family. Then all would have been permitted, would have been covered by the assumption of Eric’s responsibility for his colored boy. But, as things were, it was suspect, it was indecent, that a white boy, especially of Eric’s class and difficult reputation, should “run,” as Eric incontestably did, after one of his inferiors. Eric had no choice but to run, to insist—LeRoy could certainly not come visiting him. And yet there was something absolutely humiliating in his position; he felt it very sharply and sadly, and he knew that LeRoy felt it, too. Eric did not know, or perhaps he did not want to know, that he made LeRoy’s life more difficult and increased the danger in which LeRoy walked—for LeRoy was considered “bad,” as lacking, that is, in respect for white people. Eric did not know, though of course LeRoy did, what was already being suggested about him all over town. Eric had not guessed, though LeRoy knew only too well, that the Negroes did not like him, either. They suspected the motives of his friendliness. They looked for the base one and naturally they found it. So, shortly before, when Eric had appeared in the road, his hands in his pockets, a hoarse, tuneless whistle issuing from his lips, LeRoy had jumped off his porch and come to meet him, striding toward Eric as though he were an enemy. There was a snicker from LeRoy’s porch, quickly muffled; a screen door slammed; every eye on the street was on them. Eric stammered, “I just dropped by to see what you were doing.” LeRoy spat in the dusty road. “Ain’t doing nothing. Ain’t you got nothing to do?” “You want to take a walk?” Eric asked. For a moment it really seemed that LeRoy was going to refuse, for his scowl deepened. Then a faint smile touched his lips. “Okay. But I can’t walk far.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Maso on the other hand suffered not Ribi to speak, but bawled his loudest, whereupon the other but shouted the more. The judge stood up and leaned towards them, so he might the better apprehend what they had to say, wherefore Matteuzzo, watching his opportunity, thrust his hand between the crack of the boards and laying hold of Messer Niccola's galligaskins by the breech, tugged at them amain. The breeches came down incontinent, for that the judge was lean and lank of the crupper; whereupon, feeling this and knowing not what it might be, he would have sat down again and pulled his skirts forward to cover himself; but Maso on the one side and Ribi on the other still held him fast and cried out, 'My lord, you do ill not to do me justice and to seek to avoid hearing me and get you gone otherwhere; there be no writs granted in this city for such small matters as this.' So saying, they held him fast by the clothes on such wise that all who were in the court perceived that his breeches had been pulled down. However, Matteuzzo, after he had held them awhile, let them go and coming forth from under the platform, made off out of the court and went his way without being seen; whereupon quoth Ribi, himseeming he had done enough, 'I vow to God I will appeal to the syndicate!' Whilst Maso, on his part, let go the mantle and said, 'Nay, I will e'en come hither again and again until such time as I find you not hindered as you seem to be this morning.' So saying, they both made off as quickliest they might, each on his own side, whilst my lord judge pulled up his breeches in every one's presence, as if he were arisen from sleep; then, perceiving how the case stood, he enquired whither they were gone who were at difference anent the boothose and the saddle-bags; but they were not to be found, whereupon he began to swear by Cock's bowels that need must he know and learn if it were the wont at Florence to pull down the judges' breeches, whenas they sat on the judicial bench. The Provost, on his part, hearing of this, made a great stir; but, his friends having shown him that this had only been done to give him notice that the Florentines right well understood how, whereas he should have brought judges, he had brought them sorry patches, to have them better cheap, he thought it best to hold his peace, and so the thing went no farther for the nonce." THE SIXTH STORY [Day the Eighth]

• From Another Country (1962)

  And that’s why I’ve been working so hard. To get away.” “And what about me? What about us?” She looked up at him with a bitter smile. “What about us? I hoped I’d get through this and then we’d see. But last night something happened, I couldn’t take it any more. We were up at Small’s Paradise——” “Last night? You and Ellis?” “Yes. And Cass.” “Cass?” “I asked her to come and have a drink with me.” “Did you leave together?” “No.” “So that’s why she got in late last night.” He looked at her. “It’s a good thing I didn’t come home then, isn’t it?” “What would you have done,” she cried, “if you had? You’d have sat at that typewriter for a while and then you’d have played some music and then you’d have gone out and got drunk. And when I came home, no matter when I came home, you’d have believed any lie I told you because you were afraid not to.” “What a bitch you are,” he said. “Yes,” she said, with a terrible sobriety, “I know.” She lit a cigarette. The hand that held the match trembled. “But I’m trying not to be. I don’t know if there’s any hope for me or not.” She dropped the match on the table. “He made me sing with the band. They didn’t really want me to, and I didn’t want to, but they didn’t want to say No, to him. So I sang. And of course I knew some of the musicians and some of them had known Rufus. Baby, if musicians don’t want to work with you, they sure can make you know it. I sang Sweet Georgia Brown, and something else. I wanted to get off that stand in the worst way. When it was over, and the people were clapping, the bass player whispered to me, he said, ‘You black white man’s whore, don’t you never let me catch you on Seventh Avenue, you hear? I’ll tear your little black pussy up.’ And the other musicians could hear him, and they were grinning. ‘I’m going to do it twice, once for every black man you castrate every time you walk, and once for your poor brother, because I loved that stud. And he going to thank me for it, too, you can bet on that, black girl.’ And he slapped me on the ass, hard, everybody could see it and, you know, those people up there aren’t fools, and before I could get away, he grabbed my hand and raised it, and he said, ‘She’s the champion, ain’t she, folks? Talk about walking, this girl ain’t started walking!’ And he dropped my hand, hard, like it was too hot or too dirty, and I almost fell off the stand. And everybody laughed and cheered, they knew what he meant, and I did, too. And I got back to the table. Ellis was grinning like it was all a big joke.

• From Another Country (1962)

  And that’s why I’ve been working so hard. To get away.” “And what about me? What about us?” She looked up at him with a bitter smile. “What about us? I hoped I’d get through this and then we’d see. But last night something happened, I couldn’t take it any more. We were up at Small’s Paradise—— ” “Last night? You and Ellis?” “Yes. And Cass.” “Cass?” “I asked her to come and have a drink with me.” “Did you leave together?” “No.” “So that’s why she got in late last night.” He looked at her. “It’s a good thing I didn’t come home then, isn’t it?” “What would you have done,” she cried, “if you had? You’d have sat at that typewriter for a while and then you’d have played some music and then you’d have gone out and got drunk. And when I came home, no matter when I came home, you’d have believed any lie I told you because you were afraid not to.” “What a bitch you are,” he said. “Yes,” she said, with a terrible sobriety, “I know.” She lit a cigarette. The hand that held the match trembled. “But I’m trying not to be. I don’t know if there’s any hope for me or not.” She dropped the match on the table. “He made me sing with the band. They didn’t really want me to, and I didn’t want to, but they didn’t want to say No, to him. So I sang. And of course I knew some of the musicians and some of them had known Rufus. Baby, if musicians don’t want to work with you, they sure can make you know it. I sang Sweet Georgia Brown , and something else. I wanted to get off that stand in the worst way. When it was over, and the people were clapping, the bass player whispered to me, he said, ‘You black white man’s whore, don’t you never let me catch you on Seventh Avenue, you hear? I’ll tear your little black pussy up .’ And the other musicians could hear him, and they were grinning. ‘I’m going to do it twice, once for every black man you castrate every time you walk, and once for your poor brother, because I loved that stud. And he going to thank me for it, too, you can bet on that, black girl.’ And he slapped me on the ass, hard, everybody could see it and, you know, those people up there aren’t fools, and before I could get away, he grabbed my hand and raised it, and he said, ‘She’s the champion , ain’t she, folks? Talk about walking, this girl ain’t started walking!’

• From Another Country (1962)

  The sun had been sinking on that far-off day, a Sunday, a hot day. The church bells had ceased and the silence of the South hung heavy over that town. The trees along the walks gave no shade. The white houses, with their blank front doors, their blackly shadowed porches, seemed to be in battle with the sun, laboring and shuddering beneath the merciless light. Occasionally, passing a porch, one might discern in its depths a still, shadowed, faceless figure. The interminable pickaninnies were playing in the invincible dirt—where Eric was walking that day, on a back road, near the edge of town, with a colored boy. His name was LeRoy, he was seventeen, a year older than Eric, and he worked as a porter in the courthouse. He was tall and very black, and taciturn; Eric always wondered what he was thinking. They had been friends for a long time, from the time of Henry’s banishment. But now their friendship, their effort to continue an impossible connection, was beginning to be a burden for them both. It would have been simpler—perhaps—if LeRoy had worked for Eric’s family. Then all would have been permitted, would have been covered by the assumption of Eric’s responsibility for his colored boy. But, as things were, it was suspect, it was indecent, that a white boy, especially of Eric’s class and difficult reputation, should “run,” as Eric incontestably did, after one of his inferiors. Eric had no choice but to run, to insist—LeRoy could certainly not come visiting him. And yet there was something absolutely humiliating in his position; he felt it very sharply and sadly, and he knew that LeRoy felt it, too. Eric did not know, or perhaps he did not want to know, that he made LeRoy’s life more difficult and increased the danger in which LeRoy walked—for LeRoy was considered “bad,” as lacking, that is, in respect for white people. Eric did not know, though of course LeRoy did, what was already being suggested about him all over town. Eric had not guessed, though LeRoy knew only too well, that the Negroes did not like him, either. They suspected the motives of his friendliness. They looked for the base one and naturally they found it. So, shortly before, when Eric had appeared in the road, his hands in his pockets, a hoarse, tuneless whistle issuing from his lips, LeRoy had jumped off his porch and come to meet him, striding toward Eric as though he were an enemy. There was a snicker from LeRoy’s porch, quickly muffled; a screen door slammed; every eye on the street was on them. Eric stammered, “I just dropped by to see what you were doing.” LeRoy spat in the dusty road. “Ain’t doing nothing. Ain’t you got nothing to do?” “You want to take a walk?” Eric asked.

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  § 100. The Visible and Invisible Church. Comp. vol. VI. § 85, and the literature there quoted. A distinction between real and nominal Christianity is as old as the Church, and has never been denied. "Many are called, but few are chosen." We can know all that are actually called, but God only knows those who are truly chosen. The kindred parables of the tares and of the net illustrate the fact that the kingdom of heaven in this world includes good and bad men, and that a final separation will not take place before the judgment day.657 Paul distinguishes between an outward circumcision of the flesh and an inward circumcision of the heart; between a carnal Israel and a spiritual Israel; and he speaks of Gentiles who are ignorant of the written law, yet, do by nature the things of the law," and will judge those who," with the letter and circumcision, are transgressors of the law." He thereby intimates that God’s mercy is not bounded by the limits of the visible Church.658 Augustin makes a distinction between the true body of Christ, which consists of the elect children of God from the beginning, and the mixed body of Christ, which comprehends all the baptized.659 In the Middle Ages the Church was identified with the dominion of the papacy, and the Cyprianic maxim, "Extra ecclesiam nulla salus," was narrowed into "Extra ecclesiam Romanam nulla salus," to the exclusion not only of heretical sects, but also of the Oriental Church. Wiclif and Hus, in opposition to the corruptions of the papal Church, renewed the distinction of Augustin, under a different and less happy designation of the congregation of the predestinated or the elect, and the congregation of those who are only foreknown.660 The Reformers introduced the terminology "visible" and invisible" Church. By this they did not mean two distinct and separate Churches, but rather two classes of Christians within the same outward communion. The invisible Church is in the visible Church, as the soul is in the body, or the kernel in the shell, but God only knows with certainty who belong to the invisible Church and will ultimately be saved; and in this sense his true children are invisible, that is, not certainly recognizable and known to men. We may object to the terminology, but the distinction is real and important. Luther, who openly adopted the view of Hus at the disputation of Leipzig, first applied the term "invisible" to the true Church, which is meant in the Apostles’ Creed.661 The Augsburg Confession defines the Church to be "the congregation of saints (or believers), in which the Gospel is purely taught, and the sacraments are rightly administered." This definition is too narrow for the invisible Church, and would exclude the Baptists and Quakers.662

• From Boys & Sex (2020)

  Acknowledging assault by another boy is equally taboo. A freshman at Brown who went public in an interview with the Huffington Post after being assaulted by another student in a dorm bathroom initially joked to friends he’d had a “five a.m. hookup”: that felt easier than reckoning with his feelings of humiliation and loss of control. One young man I met, a sophomore at a Big Ten university, wanted to talk to me specifically because two other boys, brothers whom he thought of as friends, had molested him from age five through twelve. He hadn’t wanted them to touch him and didn’t enjoy it, but he also never told them to stop. Eight years later, those interactions haunted him. Although he’d gone through rehab in high school for excessive cannabis use, he was still dabbing heavily in an attempt to stop intrusive thoughts; his dorm room was littered with drug paraphernalia, liquor bottles, and boxes of half-eaten fast food. He asked me whether I thought what had happened to him was “normal,” whether it meant he was gay (he was not sexually attracted to men but hadn’t been able to sustain a relationship with a woman), whether he was to blame. I was the first person in whom he had ever confided. The SHIFT study found that students who experience assault—regardless of gender or sexual orientation—will, in conversations with peers, downgrade the incidents, labeling them “weird” or “awkward” or “regrettable” in order to keep the peace among friend groups or student organizations; for the sake of their own well-being; or because it doesn’t fit their self-image. That may be especially true for boys, who in both Jessie Ford’s interviews and the SHIFT research would make a joke out of unwanted sex, calling it “funny” or—here it is again—“hilarious,” especially if their friends had found out about it. One male SHIFT subject talked about a woman who encouraged him to keep drinking, footing his bill at a bar. Although he wasn’t attracted to her, he went back to her room and the two had intercourse. The next day, a friend framed the encounter as humorous, saying, “Dude, she was trying so hard to get you drunk.” Neither of them labeled the encounter as assault. “There is this notion of gender and sexual scripts in which men in heterosexual sex are understood to be responsible for moving the ball down the field,” observed Jennifer Hirsh, codirector of the SHIFT study. “Men are supposed to be the aggressors and girls the blockers, so that makes it hard for men to understand and label their own experiences of unwanted sex. Agency and consent are assumed. It also makes it hard for women to understand the necessity of getting consent from men.”

• From Boys & Sex (2020)

  That night, Nate slept over at Kyle’s. By then he was completely sober, though Kyle was still stoned. He peppered Nate with questions about Nicole’s body and what, precisely, the two of them had done. “I tried not to answer too specifically,” Nate said. “I’d just say, ‘Yeah, man, it was dope. I feel great. It was totally awesome.’” They looked through Nicole’s Instagram feed and talked about how “great her tits were.” “Dude! You hit that!” Kyle said. “Great job!” Kyle’s enthusiasm lifted Nate’s spirits: he hadn’t enjoyed the hookup, but at least it hadn’t been a disaster. Or so he thought. By Monday morning, Nicole had spread the word around school that Nate was “bad” at hooking up: that he’d bit her lip, that he didn’t know how to “finger” a girl. That his nails were ragged. Maybe she was trying to preserve her own reputation—to avoid being teased for hooking up with an “L.” Or maybe she just thought the story was a juicy one. “The stereotype is that guys go into gory detail,” Nate said, “but a lot of times it’s the other way around. Guys will brag, but they’re not so specific. Maybe they’d say, ‘I fingered her,’ or maybe they wouldn’t even say what they did, just that ‘we hooked up’ and leave it at that. But girls? They’ll go into every detail with their friends. What his penis looked like. Every single thing that they did. How it felt. It’s like the opposite of what you think.” Nate said he felt “completely emasculated,” so shamed that he told his mom he was sick and stayed home from school the next day. “I was basically crying,” he said. “I was like, ‘Shit! I fucked up!’”

• From Another Country (1962)

  “Yes,” she said, with a terrible sobriety, “I know.” She lit a cigarette. The hand that held the match trembled. “But I’m trying not to be. I don’t know if there’s any hope for me or not.” She dropped the match on the table. “He made me sing with the band. They didn’t really want me to, and I didn’t want to, but they didn’t want to say No, to him. So I sang. And of course I knew some of the musicians and some of them had known Rufus. Baby, if musicians don’t want to work with you, they sure can make you know it. I sang Sweet Georgia Brown, and something else. I wanted to get off that stand in the worst way. When it was over, and the people were clapping, the bass player whispered to me, he said, ‘You black white man’s whore, don’t you never let me catch you on Seventh Avenue, you hear? I’ll tear your little black pussy up.’ And the other musicians could hear him, and they were grinning. ‘I’m going to do it twice, once for every black man you castrate every time you walk, and once for your poor brother, because I loved that stud. And he going to thank me for it, too, you can bet on that, black girl.’ And he slapped me on the ass, hard, everybody could see it and, you know, those people up there aren’t fools, and before I could get away, he grabbed my hand and raised it, and he said, ‘She’s the champion, ain’t she, folks? Talk about walking, this girl ain’t started walking!’ And he dropped my hand, hard, like it was too hot or too dirty, and I almost fell off the stand. And everybody laughed and cheered, they knew what he meant, and I did, too. And I got back to the table. Ellis was grinning like it was all a big joke. And it was. On me.” She rose, and poured herself a fresh drink.

• From Cult: A Love Story: Ten Years Inside a Canadian Cult and the Subsequent Long Road of Recovery (2013)

  As Hassan says, it “sees and records contradictions, questions and disillusioning experiences.” But for all the years that I was involved with Limori, my cult self overruled and shouted down my authentic self and convinced me that Limori’s contradictions and unethical, abusive behaviour made sense and were right and good. My authentic self, which tends toward shyness and modesty, was horrified by this request from God via Limori’s mouth. It seemed degrading, humiliating, shaming, abusive and completely unnecessary, especially in front of Gary, Alice and me. Yet my cult self got busy immediately quashing all these dangerous and treasonous thoughts and feelings and began telling me that “whatever God asks us to do requires our obedience. He has our best interests at heart.” And “A little bit of nudity is nothing compared to the energetic battles that will be won if Susan can rid herself of this ego position.” And further, “I hope that if I’m ever asked to do something like this I can step up and declare my love and devotion to God without hesitating or worrying about petty little things like modesty and personal privacy.” Susan quietly left the room, a mixed expression of resolve and horror on her face. While she was gone Gary, Alice and Limori quietly discussed the spiritual crossroad that Susan had reached. “This is a big one for her,” Limori said quietly but firmly, her tone serious and concerned. “Susan’s always been a bit haughty and has too much attachment to being better than others.” Gary nodded, agreeing. “Azeen said to me that if she does not pass this test that there will be years of darkness to come, for her and for the rest of us.” “Yes, I saw that too,” Alice said. “OUCH!” Limori winced and grabbed her head. “Aye ya, Susan is really angry about this. She is hitting me like crazy.” Then, as quietly as she had left, Susan returned to the room, buck-naked. She looked to Limori for instruction, her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her expression was the one of grim determination that we all wore on occasion when we were around Limori. It said, “I will do anything for God, even this.” It was a rigid visage; a mix of fear, self-loathing, vulnerability and utter submission. “Well, you have made your decision, have you? That was quick.” (The sarcasm in Limori’s tone implied that Susan had not given this crucial decision the time for consideration that it deserved. Yet if Susan had taken a long time to return to the living room Limori would have made a cutting comment about her reluctance to serve God. One could never win in these situations.) “Come over here and stand by me.” Susan moved to stand beside the white wing-backed chair Limori was sitting in. Her nudity among the rest of us who were clothed was absurd. It was like the proverbial car wreck; I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t help myself.