Quotes About Guilt

Guilt slithered through e like a poisonous snake.

The only thing better than getting away with doing a crime was to get someone else convicted for having done it.

During all this time, the main opposition to these horrors on the part of the Democratic Party came from Republicans. This book makes an astonishing claim: of all Americans, Republicans are the ones who have the least reason to feel guilty about slavery or racism. This claim comes as a surprise because Republicans are the ones who are regularly chastised by progressives for their alleged bigotry. Let's see who the real bigots are.

Your pain and anger will pass, but the guilt would remain with you for always.

Is it wrong for me to feel so happy? Perhaps I ought even to feel guilty? No. I didn't make it happen, and it can't hurt anyone but me. Surely I have a right to my joy. For as long as it lasts...

And though I cannot honestly say I would ever turn my back on any luxury that I could come by, I do feel there is something a bit wrong in it. Perhaps that makes it all the more enjoyable.

Man's guilt in history and in the tides of his own blood has been complicated by technology, the daily seeping falsehearted death.

Why don't you want to be Jewish anymore? I'm tired of the guilt. That enormous nagging historical guilt. What guilt? The guilt of being innocent victims.

Quel po' di senso di colpa che provavo dipendeva dall'immagine di Jennifer sola e umiliata, non dal banale tradimento di Meredith. Per Jennifer io rimanevo un enigma. Rifiutavo di concederle la minima percezione di me, e la ragione posso solo immaginarla: avevo un bisogno disperato di ogni minima briciola del mio ego per vincere la paura di svanire io stesso.

If your child thinks you're guilty of something, right or wrong, then you're guilty.

I was living, in short, on the edge of a landscape of vast shame.

Imagining yourself dead is the cheapest, sleaziest, most satisfying form of childish self-pity. How sad and remorseful and guilty all those people are, standing by your great bronze coffin.

The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake. The rest of the animals pay only once for every mistake they make. But not us. We have a powerful memory. We make a mistake, we judge ourselves, we find ourselves guilty, and we punish ourselves.

Let me love and accept myself without judgment, because when I judge myself, I find myself guilty, and then need to punish myself.

Suppose I try to use an everyday thing, but I can't. Who is at fault: me or the thing? We are apt to blame ourselves, especially if others are able to use it. Suppose the fault really lies in the device, so that lots of people have the same problems. Because everyone perceives the fault to be his or her own, nobody wants to admit to having trouble. This creates a conspiracy of silence, where the feelings of guilt and helplessness among people are kept hidden.

I feel guilty because for a long time I didn't allow myself a television, and I used to drop that fact in conversation to impress people. I thought it made me sound dignified. A couple of years ago, however, I visited a church in the suburbs and there was this blowhard preacher talking about how television rots your brain. He said that when we are watching television our minds are working no harder than when we are sleeping. I thought that sounded heavenly. I bought one that afternoon.

All this gave way to my first encounter with guilt, which is still something entirely inscrutable to me, as if aliens were sending transmissions from another planet, telling me there is a right and a wrong in the universe.

Right now you can book three nights at Crest Hill at half price. This is a one-time offer and it's meant to introduce you to how differently we take care of your pet. We think once you see how eager your dog will be to join us, you'll feel better when you have to leave town. No more guilt. No more sad good-byes.

This was a different sort of guilt from anything I had previously experienced. It was a heavy guilt, not the sort of guilt that I could do anything about. It was a haunting feeling, the sort of sensation you get when you wonder whether you are two people, the other of which does things you can't explain, bad and terrible things.

It's a terrible thing, what we did," said Francis abruptly. "I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It's a shame. I feel bad about it." "Well, of course, I do too," said Henry matter-of-factly. "But not bad enough to want to go to jail for it." Francis snorted and poured himself another shot of whiskey and drank it straight off. "No," he said. "Not that bad.

It's a terrible thing, what we did," said Francis abruptly. "I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It's a shame. I feel bad about it.

Whatever else one may say about guilt, it certainly lends one diabolical powers of invention;

Clearly something had gone wrong, badly, only I wasn't quite sure what—apart from knowing that I was responsible somehow, in the generalized miasma of shame and unworthiness and being-a-burden that never quite left me.

Her death was my fault. Other people have always been a little too quick to assure me that it wasn't; and yes, only a kid, who could have known, terrible accident, rotten luck, could have happened to anyone, it's all perfectly true and I don't believe a word of it.