Quotes About Remorse

They understand NOW," agreed Charles pointedly. "But what happens in a little while when the effects wear off and they remember everything except the reasons why they did it? They're going to be telling their parents they gave their car away to some kids who made them smell a leaf. And what do they say then?

I said I was sorry." "Be sorry, then. Just be sorry somewhere else.

That was what had finally broken through her blindness. Her father had saved his people and destroyed himself. As strong as he looked, inside he was a ruin, or perhaps a funeral pyre, like the Cusp- only instead of melted bones of ijji, he was made up of the skeletons of babies and children, including, as he had always believed, his own child: her. This was his remorse.

The terror-the terror, the terror-lingered, and there was something else. It came with the dream, every time, and didn't recede with it but stayed like something a tide had washed in. Something awful-a rank leviathan corpse left to rot on the shore of her mind. It was remorse. But god, that was too bloodless a word for it,. This feeling the dream left her with, it was knives of panic and horror resting bright atop a red and meaty wound-fester of guilt.

Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Most of the January firsts in recent memory have involved splitting headaches and roiling stomachs and often being surprised about where I was waking up. ("No, Officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? Oh. My bad.")

O sentimento de culpa é algo de terrível que nos aflige em todos os momentos em que estamos acordados e nos persegue durante os sonhos.

On Papua, actually, after you were gone. At least, that's the first that I know for sure I killed. That I saw. I watched his eyes while he was dying. Then I almost turned the gun on myself.

Damn shame to have to go to heaven and tell Saint Peter you forgot to live while you had the chance.

brine shrimp were not overly talkative, squirrels failed to make significant headway in the fields of technology and mathematics, and seagulls were clearly unburdened by reason, feeling, or remorse.

Who wouldn't be in a state of denial when your next-door neighbor suddenly starts shooting at you, casually and without remorse, like you're some kind of unwanted introduced species.

Kostbare tijd, die niet meer te achterhalen is, heb ik vermorst.

Hell is the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do...For me that conception of hell lies in two words: Too late!

quella che il giusto prova davanti alla colpa commessa da altrui, e gli rimorde che esista, che sia stata introdotta irrevocabilmente nel mondo delle cose che esistono, e che la sua volontà buona sia stata nulla o scarsa, e non abbia valso a difesa".

As we shall see below, without that tinge of moral remorse, however, there would have been no catharsis, and therefore no surviving culture.

There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance.

When you are keeping a secret from someone, and that person dies, the secret becomes impossible to dislodge from inside you.

If only I'd done it then, when I should have, everything would have been easy. What a joke.

Wrongs committed in the distant past are far easier to condemn than to rectify.

He would not want to sound like a haunted man; he would not want to sound as though he was calling from a welfare hotel, years too late, to say Yes, that was a baby we had together, it would have been a baby. For he could not help now but recall the doctor explaining about that child, a boy, who had appeared so mysteriously perfect in the ultrasound. Transparent, he had looked, and gelatinous, all soft head and quick heart; but he would have, in being born, broken every bone in his body.

I rather wished I'd stabbed him somewhere less awkward.

More than anything, Natalie wanted to move to the bed, take Sophie's hand, sit beside her.Lay her head against her shoulder. But she didn't dare. Or maybe just couldn't. Fear. Friendship. Desire. Regret. Remorse. Longing. Hunger. Terror. It was getting so hard to tell the difference between any of those things. If she'd ever been able to. If anyone really could.

I wish life had an Undo function.

Guilt sticks like glue.