Shame

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 148 of 267 · 20 per page

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  Love, ladies, works wonders. It makes women lose all fear, and torment men to arrive at their ends. Con- demning the wickedness of the servant, we must equally applaud the good sense of the master, who knew that the departed spirit does not return. " Decidedly," said Geburon, " the valet and the wench were not then favoured by love. I agree with you, however, that the master had need of much good sense." " The girl, however," said Ennasuite, " lived for a long while to her heart's content by means of her strata- gem." " That is a very wretched content," said Oisille, 342 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE [Novel 40. " which begins with sin and ends with shame and pun- ishment." "That is true," rejoined Ennasuite ; "but there are many persons who suffer whilst living righteously, and who have not the wit to give themselves in the course of their lives as much pleasure as the pan- in question." " I firmly believe," replied Oisille, " that there is no perfect pleasure unless the conscience is at rest." "The Italian maintains,"' said Simontault, "that the greater the sin the greater the pleasure." " One must be a perfect devil to entertain such a thought," said Oisille ; " but let us drop the subject, and see to whom Saffredent will give his voice." " No one remains to speak but Parlamente," said Saffredent; "but though there were a hundred others, she should have my voice, as a person from whom we are sure to learn something." " Since I am to finish the day," said Parlamente, "and promised yesterday to tell you why Rolandine's father had the castle built in which he kept her so long a prisoner I will now fulfil my word." NOVEL XL. The Count de Jossebelin has his brother-in-law put to death, not knowing the relationship. The Count de Jossebelin, father of Rolandine, had several sisters. Some made wealthy marriages, others became nuns, and one, who was incomparably hand- somer than the rest, remained in his house unmarried. The brother was so fond of this sister that he preferred Fourth day.] QUEEN OF NAVARRE 343

• From Four Days to Glory: Wrestling with the Soul of the American Heartland (2005)

  Most of the people in the gym neither saw nor heard the moment, and they might not have thought about it for long even if they had; they’re too wrapped up in the fates of their own wrestlers. It isn’t as though an anguished cry inside a wrestling room is breaking news. Fathers and sons, coaches and wrestlers locked in screaming matches are as commonplace as injury timeouts—you’ll see them in every gym, sooner or later, and never more so than when the stakes are the highest. Around the North-Linn section of the stands, though, this feels different, because Ben is different. Wrestling exacerbates whatever problem one may happen to have, be it small or large, and Ben is one of those people for whom the sport brings his insecurities and his personal demons to the surface—not every day, perhaps, but often enough. He goes into that little wrestling room at North-Linn, knowing he is taking himself down a path that likely will end in some cataclysmic event. He signs up for his own emotional exposure. Before this season began, it was Mike and Kathy, not Ben, who had felt ambivalent about his taking up wrestling again. They worried about his ability to survive on every level, not just one of them. But that was then, of course, back when the decision needed to be made. Once it was made, there was really no choice about how to proceed—it had to be full tilt, or it had no chance to work. Now Mike’s only concern is that Ben leave it all out there on the mat, every ounce of energy and emotion available to him. Ben has just lost one chance at Des Moines because he wrestled scared, because he gave up his own aggressiveness in favor of a reactive style that not only runs counter to his strengths but counter to what North-Linn preaches throughout its program. Ben will have one more opportunity to put into play the approach that serves him best. And Mike is going to have something to say about making that happen. Still standing on the floor of gymnasium several minutes later, Mike appears calm. “He’ll be all right,” he says of his son, and then he smiles. “Things get a little intense sometimes.” The words are offered as an explanation, not an apology. “Ben has got to know that he has to come back hard,” Mike adds. “He can still qualify for State, and he should. He deserves to be there.” Stepping through the doors outside, I spot the potential State qualifier in the Fisher family. Ben is sitting, nearly naked in his little wrestling singlet, on the frozen dead grass near the front of Midland High School, tears streaming down his face. From the door that leads to the gym just across the way, Mike Hageman emerges with a long coat, crosses the lawn and drapes the coat around Ben. Then Hageman retreats quietly.

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  I wonder what it would be like to use food stamps for a month. I wonder how that would feel, standing in line at the grocery store, pulling from my wallet the bright currency of poverty, feeling the probing eyes of the customers as they studied my clothes and the items in my cart: frozen pizza, name-brand milk, coffee. I would want to explain to them that I have a good job and make good money. I love to give charity, but I don’t want to be charity. This is why I have so much trouble with grace. A few years ago I was listing prayer requests to a friend. As I listed my requests, I mentioned many of my friends and family but never spoke about my personal problems. My friend candidly asked me to reveal my own struggles, but I told him no, that my problems weren’t that bad. My friend answered quickly, in the voice of a confident teacher, “Don, you are not above the charity of God.” In that instant he revealed my motives were not noble, they were prideful. It wasn’t that I cared about my friends more than myself, it was that I believed I was above the grace of God. Like Rick, I am too prideful to accept the grace of God. It isn’t that I want to earn my own way to give something to God, it’s that I want to earn my own way so I won’t be charity. As I drove over the mountain that afternoon, realizing I was too proud to receive God’s grace, I was humbled. Who am I to think myself above God’s charity? And why would I forsake the riches of God’s righteousness for the dung of my own ego? Rick tells me that as he lay there in his bed waiting to die, he heard God say to him, “Your life is not your own, but you have been bought with a price,” and at this point he felt a certain peace. Rick told me he understood, cognitively as well as emotionally, that his role in his relationship with God was to humbly receive God’s unconditional love. My pastor, of course, is still alive, a miracle he cannot explain. Before he could save himself, he drifted into sleep, but he woke the next morning with ample energy, as if he had never swallowed the pills at all.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  " that he knows his business as well as any man you could find. Still he requires to be kept to his work, for he is the sleepiest varlet I ever saw." The wedded pair were on better terms with each other than they had ever been, and the husband became quite cured of his jealousy, because his wife was now as attached to her household concerns as she had previously been fond of feasts, dances, and company. Formerly she used always to spend four hours at her toilette ; but now she dressed very simply. Her husband, and those who did not know that a worse devil had driven out a lesser, extolled her for so happy a change. Meanwhile, this virtuous-seeming hypocrite led such a licentious life that reason, conscience, order, or moderation had no longer any place in her. M. D'Avannes, being young and of a delicate constitution, could not long sustain all this ; but became so pale and thin that he had no need of a mask to conceal his identity. His extravagant love for this woman had so infatuated him that he imagined he had strength to accomplish devoirs for which that of Hercules would not have been sufficient. Having fallen ill at last, and being teased by the lady, who was not so fond of him sick as sound, he asked for his discharge, which the husband granted with regret, making him promise to return as soon as he was recovered. M, D'Avannes had no need of a horse for his depart- ure, for he had only the length of a street to travel. He went at once to his good father's and found there only his wife, whose virtuous love for him had not at all decreased through absence. When she saw him so pale and thin, she could not help saying to him, " I do not know, monsieur, what is the present state of your con- science, but I do not perceive that your pilgrimage has increased your plumpness. 1 am very much mistaken it 262 THE- HEPTAMERON Of THE [Noz'el 2& your travels by night have not fatigued you more than those by day. If you had made the journey to Jerusalem on toot, you would have come back more sunburnt, but not so lean and weak. Recollect this ride, and pay no more devotions to such images, which, instead of resus- citatnig the dead, bring the livmg to death. I should say more to you, but I see that, if you have sinned, you have been so punished that it would be cruel to add to your distress." M. D\A.vannes, more ashamed than penitent, replied, " I have heard, madam, that repentance follows close upon the fault. This I experience, to my cost ; and I pray you, madam, to excuse my youth, which is punished by the experience of the mischief it would not be warned against."

• From Love & Sex: A Christian Guide to Healthy Intimacy (2018)

  “People think I’m some sort of hero because I’m the captain of the football team, because I’m a Christian, and I try to walk out what my parents taught me. But man, I blew it with Grace. She called me last week and said she is pregnant. I feel like such a jerk. How could I have done this to her? She is the sweetest girl in the world and I was taught it is my responsibility to protect her. I haven’t told my family. They are going to be so disappointed in me. I am their oldest kid. I have always tried to do the right thing, and now I haven’t.” James turned to Jason and asked, “Hey, buddy, I hurt with you, and I can only imagine how surprised you are. I get it. But I have to ask you. Did you force yourself on her or was it mutual?” “No, man, I would never do that. It was totally mutual. We both wanted each other. I just feel terrible, because I let her and everyone else down. I guess I have prided myself in being a perfect Christian. And truth is, I’m not. I think my pride has tripped me up, and I believed I was above doing something like this.” “Jason, what are you feeling?” Ted asked. “I feel ashamed of myself.” “Kevin, how do you feel about Jason?” Ted asked. Kevin turned to look at Jason, “I still think you are one of the best human beings I have ever met. You have been a true friend to me when I really needed a friend. Heck, I know you don’t have the issues I do, but you showed up here today to support us and you are the first one, besides Ted, to get real.” Jason said, “Thanks, Kevin.” Ted loved these young guys already. “Jason, what’s your biggest fear?” “Well, I have heard my pastor back home say, on more than one occasion, ‘If you have premarital sex you are messing up your chance to have a faithful marriage.’ He said something like, ‘If you have premarital sex’—I think he called it sneaking-around sex—‘you will never have fulfilling sex in your marriage. Once you taste sex fueled with the passion of doing something you shouldn’t be doing, married sex will be boring and you will most likely cheat on your spouse later in life.’ I have also heard that if you get pregnant before you get married, you are going to curse your kid or something. I’m terrified that I have messed everything up! I’m terrified that the marriage Grace and I have been dreaming of will never be the reality we hoped for and my mistake will be a curse to this poor kid we have created together. I can’t really think about anything else.”

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  secures an Academy Award for both of them. I thought about acting out that scene with Diane, but it didn’t feel right so I let it go. “Yeah, I know,” I told her. “I know God loves me.” And I did know, I just didn’t believe. It was such crap, such psychobabble. I had heard it before, but hearing that stuff didn’t silence the voices. Still, there was something in Diane’s motherly eyes that said it was true and I needed that; I needed to believe it was true. I needed something to tell the voices when they started chanting at me. Diane and I talked for another half hour, and she ooohed and sighed and made me feel listened to. She was wonderful, and I never once felt stupid or weak for talking to her. I just felt honest and real and relieved. She said she would get me some literature and that she wanted to get together again soon. She said she would pray for me. When she left, I decided to start praying about all of this too. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t prayed about it before. It’s just that it never seemed like a spiritual problem. I prayed and asked God to help me figure out what was wrong with me. Things got worse with the girl. We would spend hours on the phone working through the math of our relationship, but nothing added up, which I received as only a sign of my incompetence, and this made me more sad than before. Then she did it; she decided we didn’t need to be in touch anymore. She broke it off. She sent me a letter saying that I didn’t love myself and could not receive love from her. There was nothing she could do about it, and it was killing her. I wandered around the house for an hour just looking at the blank walls, making coffee or cleaning the bathroom, not sure when my body was going to explode in sobs and tears. I was scrubbing the toilet when the voices began. I’d listened to them so often before, but on this day they were shouting. They were telling me that I was as disgusting as the urine on the wall around the toilet. And then the sentiment occurred. I am certain it was the voice of God because it was accompanied by such a strong epiphany like a movement in a symphony or something. The sentiment was simple: Love your neighbor as yourself. And I thought about that for a second and wondered why God would put that phrase so strongly in my mind. I thought about our neighbor Mark, who is tall and skinny and gay, and I wondered whether God was telling me I was gay, which was odd because I had never felt gay, but then it hit me that God was not telling me I was gay. He was saying I

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  "You're being self-righteous... oh wait, that's not what I wanted to say, and that's not what I have to say against you... But I don't know where I'm supposed to start, and what I'll be able to say is only the thousandth... oh, It's just the millionth part of what's on my mind against you! You've won a place in life, an honored position, and there you stand, coldly and consciously rejecting anything that might momentarily upset you and upset your balance, because balance is the most important thing to you. But it's not the most important thing, Thomas, it's not the most important thing before God! You are an egoist, yes you are! I still love you when you scold and act and thunder. But the worst is your silence, the worst is when, on something that has been said, you suddenly stop and withdraw and refuse all responsibility, noble and intact, leaving the others helpless to their embarrassment... You are so without pity and Love and humility... Ah!' he cried suddenly, "I became what I am," he said at last, and his voice sounded moved, "because I didn't want to become like you. If I avoided you inside, it was because I had to beware of you, because of your being and essence is a danger to me... I speak the truth." He was silent for a moment, and then continued in a shorter and firmer tone: 'By the way, we have gone far from our subject. You gave me a speech about my character... a somewhat muddled speech that perhaps contained a kernel of truth. But it's not about me now, it's about you. You are thinking about marriage, and I want to convince you as thoroughly as possible that carrying it out in the way you are planning it is impossible. First, the interest I shall be able to pay you will not be of a very encouraging level..." »Aline has covered a lot.« The senator swallowed and controlled himself. “Hmm... put back. So you intend to mix Mother's inheritance with that lady's savings..." "Yes. I long for a home and for someone to take pity on me when I'm sick. By the way, we fit together quite well. We're both a bit lost..." “You also intend to adopt the existing children or to... legitimize them?” "Yes indeed." "So that after your death your property would pass to those people?" - When the senator said this, Mrs. Permaneder put her hand on his arm and whispered imploringly: "Thomas!... Mother is next door!..." "Yes," answered Christian, "that's how it should be." "Well, you wo n't do any of that!" the senator cried, jumping to his feet. Christian got up too, went behind his chair, took hold of it with one hand, pressed his chin on his chest and looked at his brother half shyly and half indignantly.

• From Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953)

  Then she straightened and walked into the house, not looking back. She was going to have his baby— his baby? While Deborah, despite their groaning, despite the humility with which she endured his body, yet failed to be quickened by any coming life. It was in the womb of Esther, who was no better than a harlot, that the seed of the prophet would be nourished. And he moved from the well, picking up, like a man in a trance, the heavy pails of water. He moved toward the house, which now—high, gleaming roof, and spun-gold window—seemed to watch him and to listen; the very sun above his head and the earth beneath his feet had ceased their turning; the water, like a million warning voices, lapped in the buckets he carried on each side; and his mother, beneath the startled earth on which he moved, lifted up, endlessly, her eyes. They talked in the kitchen as she was cleaning up. ‘How come you’—it was his first question—‘to be so sure this here’s my baby?’ She was not crying now. ‘Don’t you start a-talking that way,’ she said. ‘Esther ain’t in the habit of lying to no body, and I ain’t gone with so many men that I’m subject to get my mind confused.’ She was very cold and deliberate, and moved about the kitchen with a furious concentration on her tasks, scarcely looking at him. He did not know what to say, how to reach her. ‘You tell your mother yet?’ he asked, after a pause. ‘You been to see a doctor? How come you to be so sure?’ She sighed sharply. ‘No, I ain’t told my mother, I ain’t crazy. I ain’t told nobody except you.’ ‘How come you to be so sure?’ he repeated. ‘If you ain’t seen no doctor?’ ‘What doctor in this town you want me to go see? I go to see a doctor, I might as well get up and shout it from the housetops. No, I ain’t seen no doctor, and I ain’t fixing to see one in a hurry. I don’t need no doctor to tell me what’s happening in my belly.’ ‘And how long you been knowing about this?’ ‘I been knowing this for maybe a month—maybe six weeks now.’ ‘Six weeks? Why ain’t you opened your mouth before?’ ‘Because I wasn’t sure. I thought I’d wait and make sure. I didn’t see no need for getting all up in the air before I knew. I didn’t want to get you all upset and scared and evil, like you is now, if it weren’t no need.’ She paused, watching him. Then: ‘And you said this morning we was going to do something. What we going to do? That’s what we got to figure out now, Gabriel.’ ‘What we going to do?’ he repeated at last; and felt that the sustaining life had gone out of him.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Again, a legal statute has ruled that, without a dispensation, the same man shall not belong to two lay associations. Much less then ought a religious, belonging to his own community, to be a member of a secular establishment. Again, all who belong to any society are bound to obey its rules. Now religious cannot conform to regulations drawn up for lay professors and scholars; nor can they promise to abide by those ordinances which laymen bind themselves to observe; nor to take the oaths which seculars take, for religious are not their own masters, but live under authority. Hence they cannot belong to secular societies. But, the malicious enemies of religious, in their desire to exclude them from any intercourse with seculars, strive, in default of legitimate arguments, to accomplish their purpose by calumny. They maintain that religious are a source of offence and scandal to the world; and they exhort their fellows to avoid all communion with them. They quote the words of St. Paul (Rom. xvi. 17), “Now I beseech you, brethren, to, mark them who cause dissensions and offences, contrary to the doctrine which you have learned, and to avoid them.” Religious are accused of living in, idleness. Therefore, according to the words of St. Paul (2 Thes. iii. 6) they ought to be shunned by good men. For, the Apostle says: “We charge you, brethren, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw yourselves from every brother walking disorderly, and not according to the tradition which they have received of us.” St. Paul goes on to speak of the manual labour practised by the Apostles. He then continues, “For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us.” He concludes his exhortation by the following command: “If any man obey not our word,” (i.e. our injunction to manual labour), “by this epistle, note that man; and do not keep company with him, that he may be ashamed.”

• From The Triumph of Christianity (2018)

  < 139 < Lecture 21  Constantine’s Interactions with the Church `The point of the letter was both to declare Christianity as a legal religion that was now to be completely tolerated and to affirm the legitimacy of all forms of worship. In the words of Constantine scholar Harold Drake, it was “the first official government document in the Western world to recognize the principle of freedom of belief.” `With the Edict of Milan, Christianity was now, for the first time, officially recognized as completely legitimate. However, so too were all the traditional religions of Rome. There was to be equality and toleration. `Even though Constantine did not outlaw the other religions, he did not do a whole lot to help them. On the contrary, he turned his attention to the Christian church, endowing church leaders with power, offering them special privileges, providing them with significant funding, and building amazing churches. The Donatist Controversy `Constantine also became personally involved in the practical and theological disputes of the Christian church. He came to be drawn into a major Christian conf lict splitting the church known as the Donatist c ont rovers y. `The background involves the first decree of Diocletian’s Great Persecution a decade earlier in 303 CE. Part of the decree ordered the Christian scriptures to be confiscated. The logic appears to have been that if the Christian religion was based in part on sacred books, their destruction would seriously affect the religion. `Many Christians thought it was a sacrilege to turn over the sacred scriptures. Those who did so were called traditores, which had a negative meaning: “those who handed over.” `Traditores among the clergy were not only verbally abused by other Christians but were also typically dismissed from office. However, if they were unfit to serve the church, what did that say about the validity of the Christian duties they had performed earlier as ordained members of the clergy?

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  He realized, he said, more and more that the Consul must act as he did, and that his father's memory should not be bad for him. He renounced his claims, all the more since he was disposed to retire from all business and settle down with his inheritance and what else he had left, for the linen business gave him little pleasure and went like that moderate that he will not make up his mind to put more into it ... "The defiance of his father has brought him no blessing!" thought the Consul with an inward, pious look; and Gotthold probably thought the same thing. and the memory of the father should not be bad for him. He renounced his claims, all the more since he was disposed to retire from all business and settle down with his inheritance and what else he had left, for the linen business gave him little pleasure and went like that moderate that he will not make up his mind to put more into it ... "The defiance of his father has brought him no blessing!" thought the Consul with an inward, pious look; and Gotthold probably thought the same thing. and the memory of the father should not be bad for him. He renounced his claims, all the more since he was disposed to retire from all business and settle down with his inheritance and what else he had left, for the linen business gave him little pleasure and went like that moderate that he will not make up his mind to put more into it ... "The defiance of his father has brought him no blessing!" thought the Consul with an inward, pious look; and Gotthold probably thought the same thing. that he would not make up his mind to put more into it... "The defiance of his father has brought him no blessing!" thought the Consul with an inward, pious look; and Gotthold probably thought the same thing. that he would not make up his mind to put more into it... "The defiance of his father has brought him no blessing!" thought the Consul with an inward, pious look; and Gotthold probably thought the same thing. In Mengstrasse, however, he accompanied his brother up to the breakfast room, where the two gentlemen were, after the long Standing shivering in the spring air in their tailcoats, drinking old cognac together. And when Gotthold had then exchanged a few polite and serious words with his sister-in-law and had stroked the children's heads, he went away to appear at the Krögers' garden house the next "Children's Day"... He was already beginning to liquidate.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  "You're a child, Tony!" he said despondently and pleadingly. "Every word you speak is childish! Now, if I ask you, will you not deign to look at things like an adult for a single moment?! Don't you realize that you are acting as if you had experienced something serious and difficult, as if your husband had betrayed you cruelly, heaped shame on you before the whole world!? But just consider that nothing happened! That nobody's soul knows anything about this silly occurrence on your ladder to heaven in Kaufingerstrasse! That you of your and our dignity It doesn't do any harm if you return to Permaneder calmly and at most with a somewhat mocking expression... on the contrary! that you are only damaging our dignity by not doing so, because only then will you make something out of this trifle, only then will you cause a scandal..." She quickly let go of her chin and looked into his face. 'Now shut up, Thomas! Now it's my turn! Now listen! How? is only the shame and scandal in life that gets loud and gets among the people? Oh no! The secret scandal that quietly eats away at you and eats away at your self-respect is far worse! Are we Buddenbrooks people who want to be 'tip-top' on the outside, as you always say here, and choke down humiliations between our four walls? Tom, I have to wonder about you! Imagine father, how he would behave today, and then judge in his sense! No, cleanliness and openness must prevail... You can show your books to the whole world every day and say: There... It can't be any different with any of us. I know how God made me. I'm not afraid at all! Just let Julchen Möllendorpf pass me by and don't greet me! of course both times it was up to the men!‹ I am so unspeakably exalted about it, Thomas! I know I did what I thought was good. But swallowing insults out of fear of Julchen Möllendorpf and Pfiffi Buddenbrook and being insulted in an uneducated beer dialect ... out of fear of them from a man, to endure in a city where I remember such words, such scenes as the one on the ladder to heaven , would have to get used to, where I would have to learn to deny myself and my origins and my upbringing and everything in me completely, just to appear happy and content - I call that unworthy, I call that scandalous, I want to tell you...!" She broke off, tipped her chin back in her hands, and stared excitedly at the window panes. He stood in front of her, leaning on one leg, his hands in his trouser pockets and let his eyes rest on her without seeing her, in thought, and slowly moving his head from side to side. 'Tony,' he said, 'you don't hurt mewhite.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  Charles half suppressed a burp of agreement. ‘There were a few seamen—they had a hostel out at Limehouse. I had some good friends there, brave, reckless fellows, many of them. There were jazz players in London, of course, who had quite a following. But I suppose most people in the country didn’t see a black person in all their lives. It was impossible to imagine the hatred that would be unleashed against them later on.’ ‘You’ve seen a lot of that.’ ‘You could say so.’ Charles nodded, staring fiercely at the carpet as if caught by some bitter and ironic memory. I started to speak but he cut across me: ‘There are times when I can’t think of my country without a kind of despairing shame. Something literally inexpressible, so I won’t bother to try and speechify about it.’ ‘I know what you mean.’ ‘Only last year out at Stepney there were hateful scenes—precisely hateful. Oh—National Front and their like, spraying their slogans all over the Boys’ Club, where, as you know, a lot of … non-whites go. Every day there were leaflets, just full of mindless hatred—I’m sorry to keep saying it. The horrific thing was that several of those boys were boys who used to come to the Club themselves. It’s the only time I’ve seen our excellent friend Bill get truly angry. He threw out a boy by main force, simply picked him up, carried him to the door and hurled him into the street. He’s as strong as an ox, old Bill. I remember the boy—but boy is too beautiful a word—had a Union Jack pinned to the back of his sort of coat, and Bill had torn it off, accidentally I think, as he ejected him, and was left scowling absolute thunder and holding it in his hand. I was very frightened as I’m not the man I was in a fight, but all being cowards in the bone these louts sidled away when they saw they had met their match. And I wondered to myself what on earth that flag could mean now.’ He paused, mouth agape. ‘We had an outstanding young Pakistani boy, a genius at badminton, who was horribly beaten up last winter—much worse even than you, knifed in the arm and also completely deafened in one ear. Those youngsters feel they have to go about in groups now. And then of course the police think they’re out to cause trouble.’ ‘Will it ever get better,’ I said, hardly as a question. Charles puffed helplessly. ‘I’m beginning to feel a kind of relief that I shan’t be around to find out.’ It was graceless of me to put Charles on the spot but I said I found it hard to reconcile his views on race with the film that Staines had made and he himself—according to Aldo—had paid for. But I did it with as much cheek and charm as possible. He was bemused.

• From Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953)

  She told herself that it was foolish and sinful to look backward when her safety lay before her, like a hiding-place hewn in the side of the mountain. ‘Sister,’ he asked one night, ‘don’t you reckon you ought to give your heart to the Lord?’ They were in the dark streets, walking to church. He had asked her this question before, but never in such a tone; she had never before felt so compelling a need to reply. ‘I reckon,’ she said. ‘If you call on the Lord,’ he said, ‘He’ll lift you up, He’ll give you your heart’s desire. I’m a witness,’ he said, and smiled at her, ‘you call on the Lord, you wait on the Lord, He’ll answer. God’s promises don’t never fail.’ Her arm was in his, and she felt him trembling with his passion. ‘Till you come,’ she said, in a low, trembling voice, ‘I didn’t never hardly go to church at all, Reverend. Look like I couldn’t see my way nohow—I was all bowed down with shame… and sin.’ She could hardly bring the last words out, and as she spoke tears were in her eyes. She had told him that John was nameless; and she had tried to tell him something of her suffering, too. In those days he had seemed to understand, and he had not stood in judgment on her. When had he so greatly changed? Or was it that he had not changed, but that her eyes had been opened through the pain he had caused her? ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I done come, and it was the hand of the Lord what sent me. He brought us together for a sign. You fall on your knees and see if that ain’t so—you fall down and ask Him to speak to you to-night.’ Yes, a sign, she thought, a sign of His mercy, a sign of His forgiveness. When they reached the church doors he paused, and looked at her and made his promise. ‘Sister Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘when you go down on your knees to-night, I want you to ask the Lord to speak to your heart, and tell you how to answer what I’m going to say.’ She stood a little below him, one foot lifted to the short, stone step that led to the church entrance, and looked up into his face. And looking into his face, which burned—in the dim, yellow light that hung about them there—like the face of a man who has wrestled with angels and demons and looked on the face of God, it came to her, oddly, and all at once, that she had become a woman. ‘Sister Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘the Lord’s been speaking to my heart, and I believe it’s His will that you and me should be man and wife.’ And he paused; she said nothing. His eyes moved over her body. ‘I know,’ he said, trying to smile, and in a lower voice, ‘I’ma lot older than you.

• From Love & Sex: A Christian Guide to Healthy Intimacy (2018)

  Shame kept her from moving forward. She realized now her shame had been paralyzing her. When she told James last night she compared herself to the porn stars and had body image issues, just telling him that somehow freed her up to pursue the healing she needed. Her trust had been broken. James betrayed her. She was lied to, manipulated, and years were stolen. Today she felt the courage to say enough. Whatever it took, even if it meant telling a group of women how bad things had become in her marriage—Kaycie no longer cared. DESPISING THE SHAME A day earlier, Kaycie found a moment without the boys and she opened her Bible to Hebrews 12:1. She recalled how it said Jesus despised shame. She pondered how Jesus was betrayed by His disciple, Judas Iscariot. He was stripped naked, beaten, spit on, had a crown of thorns dug into his scalp, was crucified on a cross (a death reserved for the lowest of society), and He decided to despise the shame. It gave her courage to think that if He could reject shame under those circumstances then so could she. She would despise all of the shame and get real with a group of women she probably didn’t even know. At this point of her healing journey, Kaycie trusted Olivia, but she wondered if she could trust other women. She had to admit she had a lot of jealous feelings toward women. When James was caught up in his addiction, she saw how he lingered a little too long when he saw a gorgeous woman. She also saw how he flirted with other women right in front of her, as if she wasn’t in the room. Her blood still boiled at those memories. But with the memories came the determination she wasn’t going to stay in this place any longer. Enough! Olivia called her back and said, “Kaycie, I have one spot left, but here’s the deal—the group starts today at one. Is there any way you can make it?” “Let me see what I can do.” Kaycie hit the end call icon and called James. “Come on, James, answer the phone,” she said to no one. “James, glad you answered. I called Olivia this morning and left her a message saying I was ready to do her group. She just called me back and has one spot left. Here’s the deal: the group starts today at one. I know this is crazy last minute, but this is really important to me—to us. Can you come home and take care of the kids for me?”

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  WRITERS DON’T MAKE ANY MONEY AT ALL. WE MAKE about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don’t work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck’s book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch facedown and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man’s stupid words. And for this, as I said before, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more. I hate not having money. I hate not being able to go to a movie or out for coffee. I hate that feeling at the ATM when, after getting cash, the little receipt spits out, the one with the number on it, the telling number, the ever low number that translates into how many days I have left to feel comfortable. The ATM, to me, often feels like a slot machine. I walk up to it hoping to get lucky. I feel like a complete loser when I don’t have money. That’s the real problem. I feel invalidated, as if the gods have not approved my existence, as if my allowance has been cut off. We are worth our earning potential, you know. We are worth the money we make. Maybe this is a man thing; maybe women don’t think about this, I don’t know, but I think about it. I think I am worth what I earn, which makes me worth one dollar. Not having money affects the way a man thinks about himself. Last year I didn’t have any money at all. Five of twelve months last year I prayed God would send me rent. Five of twelve months I received a check in the mail the day rent was due. I was grateful at first, but after a while, to be honest with you, I began to feel like God’s charity. At the end of each month I would start biting my nails, wondering what account owed me money or whether or not I would pick up any writing assignments. There’s not a lot of work in the Christian market if you won’t write self-righteous, conservative propaganda. I write new-realism essays. I am not a commodity.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  My father had gone up to his bedroom to get dressed and now he was coming back down, we could hear his bulk on the upper stairs. K. was thrusting his few things into his bag when the door opened and my father appeared at the top of the hall, rattling his keys. Hurriedly I dropped a towel over the vomit I had yet to mop up, thinking that if I could do nothing about the smell I could at least hide the sight of it away. As he opened the door to the garage (the same door we had left through a few hours before), my father said I’m sorry you’re not well, or something like it, something neighborly, the sort of thing one says, and K. thanked him as we got into the car, my father alone in front and K. and I together in the back. As if by instinct we sat well apart, and though I couldn’t help glancing at him we said nothing to each other. Shortly into the ride I realized I could still smell him, not only his vomit but his body, too, his sweat, which was bitter and strong; I was embarrassed for my father to smell it. I lowered the window a little and laid my head against the glass. The air was cool as it flooded in but the foulness still remained, and though K. had always before filled me with joy he seemed part of my shame now and of the foulness in the air, not just a bodily foulness but something stranger and heavier. My father glanced at us often in the mirror, a quick flick of the eyes. K. sat with his face to the window but I thought he must feel it too, that watchfulness and the weight it added to the air. It was the watchfulness that made it foul, I realized, not with its own foulness but with a foulness it found in us. K. turned away from the window but didn’t look at me, and when I asked him if he was all right he didn’t answer, though when my father asked him the same question, the very same, as though he hadn’t heard me ask it or as though it were a different question from his lips, K. spoke, he said Yes, sir, and I felt him turn from me, in that foul air I felt him identify me as foulness.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  If ever a man was utterly confounded and horrified, it was the poor husband. It was bad enough to think that he had forsaken his wife, who was fair, chaste, and virtuous, and overflowing with affection for him, for a woman who did not love him ; but it was infinitely worse when he represented to himself that he had been so un- lucky as to make her quit the path of virtue, in spite of herself and without knowing it, to share with another the pleasures which should have been his alone, and to have forged for himself the horns of perpetual mockery. Seeing, however, that his wife was already angry enough about his intended intrigue with the servant, he did not dare to tell her of the villainous trick he had played upon herself. He implored her pardon, promised to make amends for the past by the strictest propriety of conduct in future, and gave her back her ring, which he had taken from his friend, whom he begged not to say a word of what had happened. But as everything whispered in the eg THE HEPTAMEKON OF THE lN(n'd%. ear is by-and-by proclaimed from the house-top, the ad- venture became public at last, and people called him a cuckold, without any regard for his wife's feelings.* It strikes me, ladies, that if all those who have been guilty of similar infidelity to their wives were punished in the same way, Hircan and Saffredent would have great cause to fear. " Why, Longarine ? " said Saffredent. " Are Hircan and I the only married men in the company } " " You are not the only married men," she replied. " but you are the only ones capable of playing such a trick." " Who told you," returned Saffredent, " that we have sought to debauch our wives* servant-maids } "' " If those who are interested in the matter," she an- swered, "were to speak the truth, we should certainly hear of servant-maids dismissed before their time." "This is pleasant, truly," observed Geburon ; "you promised to make the company laugh, and instead of that you vex these gentlemen." " It comes to the same thing," replied Longarine. "Provided they do not draw their swords, their anger will not fail to make us laugh." " If our wives were to listen to this lady," said Hircan, " there is not a married couple in the company but she would set at variance." " Nay," said Longarine, " I know before whom I speak. Your wives are so prudent, and love you so much, that though you were to make them bear horns as big as those of a deer, they would believe, and try to make others believe, that they were chaplets of roses." * This tale is taken from the fabliau of Le Meunier d'Alens, and also occurs in the facetis of Poggio, in Sacchetti, and in the Cent Nouvelles A^oitvelles.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  12. What is unlawful cannot be imposed by this Church as a penance. But for certain grave offences, a sinner may be enjoined to make a pilgrimage and to beg his way. Hence mendicancy is not sinful, but may be a penitential exercise. It may, therefore, be practised, together with other works of penance, for the love of God, and as a means to perfection. 13. As vigils, fasting and suchlike macerations of the flesh are employed as means to combat concupiscence, so everything that tends towards humiliation diminishes pride, which is as much to be avoided as lust, since, as St. Gregory says, spiritual sins are the more heinous. Now no penitential exercise can be more humiliating than mendicancy, for man is naturally ashamed of begging. Hence as fasting and watching, regarded in the light of bridles to concupiscence, pertain to the state of perfection; mendicancy likewise, embraced for the love of Christ and for the sake of humility, pertains to the same state. 14. Again, the charity of Christ is more liberal than is the friendship of the world. Now even in human friendship, friends make no difficulty about asking each other for what they need, particularly in cases where some return can be made for what is given. The form in which such return is made is of no consequence, as the philosopher says (V Ethic.). Hence it is permissible for a man, even though he be in good health, to ask for the love of God for what he needs, especially as he can make a return to the donor by prayers and spiritual works. 15. It is lawful to ask another for a favour, if, by so doing, we give him a chance of improving his condition. Now by giving alms, a man betters his condition by meriting eternal life. Hence it cannot be unlawful to ask for charity. 16. The needs of the poor cannot be relieved unless they be known; and they cannot be known unless they be revealed. Hence if it is right for any to be in a state of destitution, it is right for them to beg for what they need. But, as we have already proved, it is lawful for men to reduce themselves to such poverty for the love of God that even (as St. Augustine says in De opere monachorum) their manual labour does not suffice to support them. It is, therefore, justifiable in them to beg. We shall now prove that it is right to give alms to mendicant religious.

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  He even pointed his index finger to where to start... And Hanno stared at it and began to read. With a trembling voice and furrowed brows and lips, he read of the golden age that had first sprouted and cultivated loyalty and justice without avenger, of free will, without the rule of law. "Punishment and fear were absent," he said in Latin. 'Neither were threatening words read upon affixed tablets of bronze, nor did the pleading company shrink from the face of their judge...' He read with a tortured and disgusted expression on his face, reading badly and incoherently with will, deliberately neglecting individual ties which were penciled in Kilian's book spoke erroneous verses, faltered and worked his way forward with difficulty, always aware that the Ordinary would discover everything and pounce on him ... The thieving pleasure, seeing the open book in front of him made his skin tingle; but he was full of repugnance and cheated as badly as possible on purpose just to make the cheating less mean. Then he fell silent, and there was a stillness in which he dared not look up. This silence was terrible; he was convinced that Dr. Mantelsack had seen everything, and his lips were quite white. Finally the Ordinary sighed and said: 'O Buddenbrook, si tacuisses! You'll excuse the classic you for once!... Do you know what you did? You've dragged beauty into the dust, you've behaved like a vandal, like a barbarian, you're an amused creature, Buddenbrook, you can tell by the look of your nose! When I am wondering whether you were coughing all this time or whether you were uttering lofty verses, I incline more to the former view. Timm has developed little rhythmic feeling, but compared to you he's a genius, a rhapsode... Sit down, wretched man. You have learned, of course, you have learned. I can't give you a bad reference. You must have tried your best... Look, don't people tell you that you're musical, that you play the piano? How is that possible?... Well, it is good, sit down, you may have been industrious, it is good.” He wrote a satisfactory note in his paperback and Hanno Buddenbrook sat down. As it had been before with the rhapsodist Timm, so it was now. He couldn't help but feel genuinely struck by the praise that had been contained in Doctor Mantelsack's words. At that moment he was seriously of the opinion that he was a somewhat untalented but diligent student who had come out of the matter relatively with honors, and he clearly felt that all his classmates, not excluding Hans Hermann Kilian, held the same view. Something like nausea stirred inside him again; but he was too exhausted to think about what was happening. Pale and trembling, he closed his eyes and sank into lethargy... Dr. Mantelsack, however, continued the lesson. He proceeded to the verses to be prepared for today and called Petersen up.