Quotes About Remorse

and the Prospect of that continued Bliss she expected to share with him, took from her all Remorse for having engaged in an Affair which promised her so much Satisfaction, and in which she found not the least Danger of Misfortune.

Wainwright looks like she knows what she's doing is wrong, and it'll never be right inside her head again.

Benedick's flesh, and his colony were replete with recollections that he would have preferred to erase, undo, or lose forever.

He glanced down, his lashes thick and ivory against his blue-tinged cheek, and draw the dead man's sheath and knife from his boot.

Blinking, startled, as if he had utterly forgotten the Elf-Knight's existence, Kit turned away from the mortal men and hurried to Murchaud's side. Kit pulled Murchaud upright, checking his injuries with a fussiness that left Will tasting bile and jealousy.

She wondered if the man who had written that clever little technomantic virus still would have done so, if he had known he would be breaking her heart for centuries to come.

In her eyes I saw the pain that comes from regrets that will never be lifted.

All that remains is regret for what might have been. It is like standing in the ashes of a fire you once approached to warm your body a little, but which burned you to the bone instead.

forgiveness and responsibility are not the same thing. No one can absolve him of his responsibility. He will remain responsible for the rest of his life. And he knows it, or he would not have told you what he has done.

How much of what passes for grief in the world is really nothing more than regret?

Ferranti's thoughts had been his. As before he had understood his remorse so now he understood the mental chains that had imprisoned him. The poor wretch could not move. Misery had become apathy and apathy had brought the inevitable paralysis of the will.

I might not have behaved the way I did. I might not have gotten drunk every night, slept around, done drugs, woken up in strange houses wondering where I was and what I'd done the night before.

Why?" he whispered as he leaned over her, supported on one arm. "Why must ye be the one that haunts me dreams? I've seen ye weepin' night after bloody night since the day I sent ye from me palace with yer dress half undone. If I had it to do over again, I'd cut me own right hand off rather than hurt ye so. Will ye never be able to forgive me, Silence love?" "I already have," she replied, cradling his cheek in her hand. "Long, long ago.

As you know, human history is full of evil deeds, and maybe we ought to think of them with tears, not fascination.

I will not ask you for forgiveness. What I have done is unforgivable. I was so lost in hatred and revenge. I never dreamed that I could love you so much. You stole what was left of my heart. And now I've lost you forever.

I wish it had never happened because then I wouldn't think about it as I'm falling asleep.

Too late, too late, juice pouring does not a kind soul make, and I killed you.

In case you haven't noticed, people get hard-hearted against the people they hurt. Because they can't stand it. Literally. To think we did that to someone. I did that. So we think of all the reasons why it's okay we did whatever we did.

the sense of apology did not go away; it was a tiring thing to carry. —

And so there's a struggle, or a contest, I guess you could say, all the time, it seems to me. And remorse, well, to be able to show remorse—to be able to be sorry about what we've done that's hurt other people—that keeps us human.

In case you haven't noticed, people get hard-hearted against the people they hurt. Because we can't stand it. Literally. To think we did that to someone. I did that. So we think of all the reasons why it's okay we did whatever we did.

At times these days—rarely, very rarely, but at times—I feel like I've become, oh, just a tiny—tiny—bit better as a person, and it makes me sick that Henry didn't get any of that from me.

she seemed caught between the pincers of some intractable remorse.

What a really awful thing I had done. I had not thought of this until now. To deny my husband any chance of comforting me—oh, it was an unspeakably awful thing. And I had not known. This is the way of life: the many things we do not know until it is too late.