"I don't deserve any credit for turning the other cheek as my tongue is always in it"
About this Quote
Sanctimony doesn’t stand a chance here. O’Connor takes one of Christianity’s most polished moral directives - “turn the other cheek” - and ruins its sheen with a bodily, comic image: a tongue already wedged in that cheek. The joke lands because it yanks virtue out of the realm of public performance and drops it into the cramped, unflattering space of impulse. She’s not claiming saintliness; she’s admitting reflex. Her “forgiveness” is less a triumph over pride than a failure to stage righteous retaliation.
The line also works as a small act of theological discipline. O’Connor, a devout Catholic who wrote relentlessly about sin, grace, and hypocrisy, mistrusted the kind of goodness that reads well in polite society. By denying herself “credit,” she’s rejecting the moral accounting system that turns spiritual life into a scoreboard. The tongue - associated with biting back, gossip, and sharp speech - hints at what’s really happening: she may not strike, but she’s still armed. The aggression just gets rerouted into wit, sarcasm, silence, or internal contempt.
Subtextually, it’s also a writer’s confession. O’Connor’s fiction is full of people who confuse decency with superiority, only to be punctured by some humiliating truth. Here, she punctures herself first. Turning the other cheek becomes less about heroic restraint and more about the messy comedy of trying to be good while remaining, stubbornly, oneself.
The line also works as a small act of theological discipline. O’Connor, a devout Catholic who wrote relentlessly about sin, grace, and hypocrisy, mistrusted the kind of goodness that reads well in polite society. By denying herself “credit,” she’s rejecting the moral accounting system that turns spiritual life into a scoreboard. The tongue - associated with biting back, gossip, and sharp speech - hints at what’s really happening: she may not strike, but she’s still armed. The aggression just gets rerouted into wit, sarcasm, silence, or internal contempt.
Subtextually, it’s also a writer’s confession. O’Connor’s fiction is full of people who confuse decency with superiority, only to be punctured by some humiliating truth. Here, she punctures herself first. Turning the other cheek becomes less about heroic restraint and more about the messy comedy of trying to be good while remaining, stubbornly, oneself.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
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