I am not a saint. I have done wrong, and I’m not proud of it, but I’m not ashamed of talking about it.
Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment. (The Two Gentlemen of Verona)
He who puts a friend to public shame is as guilty as a murderer.
We are ashamed of everything that is real about us; ashamed of ourselves, of our relatives, of our incomes, of our accents, of our opinions, of our experience, just as we are ashamed of our naked skins.
The more things a man is ashamed of, the more respectable he is.
The people who are dragging their shame into a confessional box, with their feet hanging out from under a curtain like wiggling worms, have courage to face their own shame. It is the cowards who are running off to pillboxes, and to a thousand and one other escapes, who have not the courage to face […]
In darkness one may be ashamed of what one does, without the shame of disgrace.
I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to see them not ashamed.
When I look back upon the more than sixty years that I have spent on this entrancing earth, and when I am asked which of all the changes that I have witnessed appears to me to be the most significant, I am inclined to answer that it is the loss of a sense of shame.
I lose my respect for the man who can make the mystery of sex the subject of a coarse jest, yet when you speak earnestly and seriously on the subject, is silent.