Best 113 quotes in «remorse quotes» category

We cannot see love yet its nurturing warmth is the essence of our being and sorrow can touch our very soul. For remorse is like a ripple on the ocean, once given it remains only in the heart of the receiver. Believe in Yourself by Grace Willows

We carry the world. They did. All those young men did. They carried the world, and it was heavy, and they didn't know what to do with it. Was this the rest? Was this the war? Things had already spun out of control and they weren't always as black and white or as right or wrong as Nick liked to think.

When the bonfire of love still smolders in the wake of emotional convulsions, seeds of regret and remorse may endlessly linger about on the path of life. ("Taken for a ride)

Whether man or beast, the secrets you kept in the fathoms of your heart always held you to ransom.

When we cannot share our values any longer and our incipient intentions have become blurry, common understanding may turn into irredeemable misunderstanding. If the spirit of common perspectives and commitments has irreversibly been broken, we might patently drift down into suspicion, remorse or regret. As such, shared initiatives ought to be reasoned and well thought-out to avoid ‘understanding’ becoming ‘misunderstanding’ and ‘hope’ breaking down into ‘heartbreak’. ("The unbreakable code " )

Why did I do that?” Remorse touches us a little deeper causing us to feel disgust and pain (involving both the intellect and the heart), but not causing us to change our ways. True repentance brings in the third aspect of our minds – our will. To truly repent one must have a change of will. “Godly sorrow” is the catalyst that brings us to true repentance. [Warren Wiersbe, Be Reverent, p. 149.] By Carey Dillinger From Expository Files 11.6; June 2004

Wiersbe suggests that a distinction can be made between regret, remorse and repentance. Regret is that activity of the mind (intellect) that causes us to say, “Why did I do that?” Remorse touches us a little deeper causing us to feel disgust and pain (involving both the intellect and the heart), but not causing us to change our ways. True repentance brings in the third aspect of our minds – our will. To truly repent one must have a change of will. “Godly sorrow” is the catalyst that brings us to true repentance. [Warren Wiersbe, Be Reverent, p. 149.] By Carey Dillinger From Expository Files 11.6; June 2004

You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sin, you know, and cry tears doing it that are genuine as any.

Without guilt or remorse, shame was an empty emotion. Indeed, shame would not be shame.

You take refuge in pets, and then there are pets that you love more than you thought you could, and the years go by fast, and suddenly you're standing there watching as they don't die quickly from the injection like the vet assured you they would. And you stand there feeling like once again you're screwing up the bigger plan that something up there must have, trying to snuff this innocent thing out quietly and quickly because of what happened inside of its liver, heart, and kidneys; because they said there would be only painful weeks left anyway; weeks of more breakdown and bad cell division, bleeding, dehydration; you couldn't stand seeing the pain, the blood coming up again, and innocent eyes full of confusion and so you said yes. You think you're being strong again, you agree, you bring her in, one quick little tiny sting and then it's off to sleep in heaven, if animals can get in. The paw is shaved, the little sting happens, you put her favorite toy down next to the cold, clear, thin hose full of a drip of who knows, the hose that has no idea what it's really doing today, the tube you keep second-guessing. But, go, just go, just go, just do this, fuck, nobody's ever going to explain it, do it, do it, do it. And suddenly she's full of life again, looking at you like you've made yet another mistake on this planet, how the fuck did this happen, how does any of it happen, cats, dogs, babies, parents, all turned to fucking angels living in a place you aren't even sure you believe in.

You took a life and the theft went unpunished. God didn't strike you down. The sky didn't fall. The morning after, you turned on the faucet and water still came out... It was still good when you raised your arm for a cab and one came towards you out of the flow like magic. You did things that were supposed to end you and found they were only things that changed you. It was a disappointment and a revelation and a bereavement and a new thrilling nudity. It was the basic prosaic obscenity: You kept going.

Abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate.

And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead!

You have to understand that only the very worst end up here: the ones whose anger made them kill, and who felt no sorrow or guilt after the act; those so obsessed with themselves that they turned their backs on the sufferings of others, and left them in pain; those whose greed meant that others starved and died. Such souls belong here, because they would find no peace elsewhere. In this place, they are understood. In this place, their faults have meaning. In this place, they belong.

Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.

Forgiveness is possible even when there is no restitution, no remorse on the part of the perpetrator.

Feeling no remorse must be a blessing when all you have are your memories

I don't have a seller's remorse about how I've lived. I am cognizant of what I have done, and any of us could maybe draw the line better. But I've tried to live pretty fearlessly.

I wealthiest am when richest in remorse.

Not to be cowardly when it comes to our own actions! Not to leave them in the lurch!--The sting of conscience is indecent.

Listen and understand. That Terminator is out there. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.

Nothing may be more selfish than remorse.

On the throne, one has many worries; and remorse is the one that weighs the least.

Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?

Remorse is the fruit of crime.

Remorse for what is done is useless.

Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.

Remorse weeps tears of blood.

Remorse begets reform.

Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.

Repentance, as we know, is basically not moaning and remorse, but turning and change.

Repentance is accepted remorse.

What is learned without pleasure is forgotten without remorse.

Show business is the best possible therapy for remorse.

Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.

After all these years, all I know is, I need not to do anything as a part of remorse. All I need is to write. Because,'Poetry forgives.

...a guilty suffering spirit is more open to grace than an apathetic or smug soul. Therefore, an age without a sense of sin, in which people are not even sorry for not being sorry for their sins, is in a serious predicament. Likewise an age with a Christianity so eager to forgive that it denies the need for forgiveness. For such an age, therefore, Lent can scarcely be too long!

All she captures is a moment and what she calls it is a memory, Sometimes, it is assumptions that we use; all we need is a theory, Because you don’t know what is there in the future, And all you need is a vision to make a perfect picture. I feel that I have known you for a century, And whatever she calls is a memory.

Besides the pleasure, there is always remorse, from the indulgence of our passions; and, after all, what have you men to fear from all this; the world excuses, and notoriety ennobles you?

...burying themselves in his arm was more about feeling his love in the confusion, in the difficulty, than it was about having moved past it.

Celui qui, jadis, détruisit dans l'insouciance de la jeunesse tant et tant de merveilles donnerait tellement aujourd'hui pour retrouver quelques-uns seulement de ces objets merveilleux qui portaient notre histoire.

And so, for the first time, I began to feel a more general remorse—a feeling somewhere between self-pity and self-hatred—about my whole life.

Chimerical words, the words were written, Some are wasted; some are still on the page, Tattered words, the words were written, Some are young, some are aged, Gloomy words, the words were written, Some are unspoken, some are told, Words were hurt, though they can heal, Words are breathless, though can feel, Words won hearts, words shattered hearts, Words lost battles, words won wars, Wars within, words had scars.

Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed, is a most undesirable sentiment. If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can and address yourself to the task of behaving better next time. On no account brood over your wrong-doing. Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean.

Cosette, do you hear? he has come to that! he asks my forgiveness! And do you know what he has done for me, Cosette? He has saved my life. He has done more--he has given you to me. And after having saved me, and after having given you to me, Cosette, what has he done with himself? He has sacrificed himself. Behold the man. And he says to me the ingrate, to me the forgetful, to me the pitiless, to me the guilty one: Thanks! Cosette, my whole life passed at the feet of this man would be too little. That barricade, that sewer, that furnace, that cesspool,--all that he traversed for me, for thee, Cosette! He carried me away through all the deaths which he put aside before me, and accepted for himself. Every courage, every virtue, every heroism, every sanctity he possesses! Cosette, that man is an angel!

Cut anyone and everyone out of your life that makes you feel small, hurt, humiliated, stupid, worthless, etc. do it swiftly and violently and without remorse.

Daddy thinks history starts fresh every day, every minute, that time itself begins with the feelings he’s having right now. That’s how he keeps betraying us, why he roars at us with such conviction. We have to stand up to that, and say, at least to ourselves, that what he’s done before is still with us, still right here in this room until there’s true remorse. Nothing will be right until there’s that.” “He looks so, sort of, weakened.” “Weakened is not enough. Destroyed isn’t enough. He’s got to repent and feel humiliation and regret. I won’t be satisfied until he knows what he is.” "Do we know what we are?" "We know we aren’t him. We know that to that degree we don’t yet deserve the lowest circle of hell.

Death abides by no one's rules...it takes what pleases it without consciousness to its decisions. It destroys what it will. It took the pieces of perfection I once knew and shattered them. Now what remains are shards of a dream, drawing blood with every step.

Death. I have fed that foul beast a feast, and yet it still hungers.

Do what needs to be done today so tomorrow will have no regrets .