A Quote by Jenna Blum

We are all ashamed in one way or another. Who among us is not stained by the past? — © Jenna Blum
We are all ashamed in one way or another. Who among us is not stained by the past?
[W]e are the heirs of a past of rope, fire, and murder. I for one am not ashamed of this past. My shame is for those who became so inhuman that they could inflict this torture upon us.
There are among us those that would criticize our Confederate ancestors. Would you allow a stranger to come into your house and criticize your little ones? I say it's not whether we should be ashamed of our fathers and mothers of the Old Confederacy. I say it's a question of whether they should be ashamed of us.
It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves. Another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers [of the Seam] and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another.
You take something from your past that you're somewhat ashamed about and you write about it from another character's point of view.
The most precise and thoughtful scholar is limited in what he knows and wrong in some things that he affirms; the most devoted saint is stained with sin and full of error; the bravest heart among us will fail and break; but Christ is altogether lovely, holy, and unfailing.
We live in an atmosphere of shame. 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.
To such an extent does nature delight and abound in variety that among her trees there is not one plant to be found which is exactly like another; and not only among the plants, but among the boughs, the leaves and the fruits, you will not find one which is exactly similar to another.
For a long time I was ashamed of the way I lived. Did I reform, you ask? No. I'm not ashamed anymore.
Madly, futilely, I wrote novel after novel, eight in all, that failed to find a publisher. I persisted because for me the novel was the supreme literary form: not just one among many, not a relic of the past, but the way we communicate to one another the subtlest truths about this business of living.
Madly, futilely, I wrote novel after novel, eight in all, that failed to find a publisher. I persisted because for me the novel was the supreme literary form - not just one among many, not a relic of the past, but the way we communicate to one another the subtlest truths about this business of living.
I felt ashamed of being different and ashamed of feeling that way.
... we may remember what the Romansthought a cultivated person ought to be: one who knows how to choose his company among men, among things, among thoughts, in the present as well as in the past.
I come from Cyberspace, the new home of Mind. On behalf of the future, I ask you of the past to leave us alone. You are not welcome among us. You have no sovereignty where we gather.
I am not ashamed of my past; I am not ashamed of my humble beginnings.
I am not ashamed of my past. I am not ashamed of my humble beginning.
The more people come out, the less it will be an issue. Of we are ashamed of ourselves, how the hell can we expect the rest of the world not to be ashamed of us?
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