Quotes About Cureless

O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, To come to me: of cureless ills thou art The one physician. Pain lays not its touch Upon a corpse.

REMORSE. Remorse is memory awake, Her companies astir, — A presence of departed acts At window and at door. It's past set down before the soul, And lighted with a match, Perusal to facilitate Of its condensed despatch. Remorse is cureless, — the disease Not even God can heal; For 't is his institution, — The complement of hell.

O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, To come to me: of cureless ills thou art The one physician. Pain lays not its touch Upon a corpse.