Quotes About Remorse

A body can't run from what they done. They carry it with them inside. It fester and spread like poison if it's buried. It gotta be out in the air where it can heal.

Yet only six days ago, you were in my office on your knees telling me you'd do anything to land me as a client. —I was young and stupid.

Oh, I wish I'd come over here once in a while! That was a crime! That was a crime! Who's going to punish that?

His voice softened, and he looked at her, his beautiful eyes glossy. "Cookie, if I could, I'd start all over with you. Do things right. Honor us both." ...His mouth opened. Closed. He swallowed, and a single tear dripped onto his cheek.

But I don't know what to him about the aftermath of killing a person. About how they never leave you.

Yes. I killed him. And buried her in flowers," I say. "And I sang her to sleep.

She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type.

My father got to know my mother because on his hunts he would sometimes collect medicinal herbs and sell them to her shop to be brewed into remedies. She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type.

I personally killed the girl, Glimmer, and the boy from district 1. As I try to avoid looking at his family, I learn that his name was Marvel. How did I never know that? I suppose that before the games I didn't pay attention, and afterward I didn't want to know.

I should have tried to save you," I whisper.

Our full stomachs make us more uncomfortable and breathless than we were on the morning's climb. I begin to regret those last dozen oysters.

Yo también —reconozco, aunque no sé qué decirle sobre las consecuencias de matar a una persona, sobre cómo esa persona sigue dentro de ti para siempre.

And I know I'm not alone. As badly as I have hurt him,

Amazingly similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. Entirely different in the aftermath. I killed a boy whose name I don't even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a girlfriend who really believed he would come back....

Do I really want him dead? What I want . . . what I want is to have him back. But I'll never get him back now. Even

You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.

he was killed during interrogation. Brilliant, enigmatic, lovely Cinna is dead because of me.

i killed you, i think as I pass a pile. and you. and you

I begin to regret those last dozen oysters.

Sometimes I had too many beers.

I love my son, but I was never there for him, so I understand why he hates me.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

Our culture has become increasingly intolerant of that acute sorrow, that intense mental anguish and deep remorse which may be defined as grief. We want to medicate such sorrow away.

I don't like it, and I'm sorry I ever had anything to do with it.