Best 1275 quotes in «guilt quotes» category

If you feel I am arrogant, you felt your guilt

If you survive, you've got to live with the guilt, and that's more difficult than looking someone in the eye and pulling the trigger. Trust me. I've done both.

I had told him I was searching for my keys, that's what had taken me so long in the car, and I squeezed him tighter, as if I could crush my little lie.

I had to sever my emotional cord to escape the anger and shame that silently slithered through my head, disconnecting myself from the stares and whispers that followed me down the hall.

I had victory and knew I was going to be fine, no matter what was adding up in my direction. This forever kind of freedom is amazing.

I have been guilty of writing words. I have not been guilty of believing in them.

I have had the freedom and peace of forgiving my abuser, it helped me to stop resenting and no longer feeling hurt.

I have never read, heard or seen hatred and guilt win a fight. When we walk in the light of forgiveness and love we meet true victory.

I have only ever known Guilt to have one weakness, one not easily given and not easily found: Forgiveness...In truth, Guilt’s strength lies not in the failure of others to grant us forgiveness, but in our failure to forgive ourselves.

I haven’t felt the full weight of the world on my shoulders, and I haven’t experienced a fraction of the pain and embarrassment I’ve put out into this great big white world.

I have the power to change my physical and emotional experience.

I have tried to live my life with no regrets. Because regrets will become guilt in some cases, and guilt eats away at your sanity.

I have only to glance over my shoulder for all those years to drop away and I see it behind me again, the ravine, rising all green and black through the saplings, a picture that will never leave me.

I have options, I can be whoever I want to be!

"It was hot at the restaurant," I said. "So I rolled up my sleeves." "What?" I pushed my left one up, showing four bruises, dark as ink spots. Simon paled. "My aunt wanted to know what happened. When I wouldn't tell her, she tricked me into admitting it was a boy. She met Derek this morning and he was rude, so she decided it had to be him. I never confirmed it. If he's in trouble, it is not my fault. I had every right to tell someone and I didn't." "Okay, okay." He rubbed his mouth, still staring at my arm. "So he grabbed your arm. That's what it looks like. Right? He just grabbed harder than he thought." "He threw me across the room." Simon's eyes widened, then he lowered his lids to hide his surprise. "But he didn't mean to. If you saw how freaked out he was last night, you'd know that." "So that makes it okay? If I lose my temper and smack you, it's all right, because I didn't mean to, didn't plan to." "You don't understand. He just—" "She's right." Derek's voice preceded him around the corner. I shrank back. I couldn't help it. As I did, a look passed through Derek's eyes. Remorse? Guilt? He blinked it away.

I kept that thought in the background for a long time. It sort of just lingered there. The kind of thought that can apply to other situations, too. Like when you’re going to cheat on somebody. You know something’s going to happen and you can’t say it out loud. But you know that if you follow a certain line, it’ll come true and you’ll be free of most culpability in making it happen.

I killed it," Athan lamented. "I am a fool." His righteous anger, his arguments, his adoration for the being who claimed Eldaloth's name faded and disintegrated with all the suffering life behind him. A poisonous dread seeped as deep into his soul as the exultant honor and pride he had felt just minutes before. The vast gap between the two emotions a crater into which his very soul plummeted in free-fall.

I knew nothing of death, and, for some unexplainable reason, I was beginning to feel guilty for that. -Jessica

Il n'est si homme de bien, qu'il mette à l'examen des loix toutes ses actions et pensées, qui ne soit pendable dix fois en sa vie. (There is no man so good that if he placed all his actions and thoughts under the scrutiny of the laws, he would not deserve hanging ten times in his life.)

I lie awake in my bed, clinging to the brightness I have known, fighting back the tide of darkness, the memories of blood and branding and horror, and the legacy of cruelty that runs in my own veins, shaping my own secret vow and wielding it like a brand against the darkness, whispering it to myself, over and over. I will try to be good.

I'm never going to 'not come' because of you. You're my friend." I finally turn around so I can reassure her some more, but I freeze. Guilt stabs me deeply. She's crying. It's not full-out bawling, but in the little light available I see two wet trails slowly dripping from sorrowful eyes. "Ivy?" Her wet eyes close as she slumps forward, her shoulders shuddering.

I'm starting to understand that attempting to be perfect has been the goal of my life. Our lives. Attempting to be this fault-free, smiling person in this loving, happy family that fits so perfectly in this pretty, inoffensive little town. What was so bad about that goal after all? Only that I couldn't do it. That I let everybody down. I've been so down about it, so depressed thinking about all the balls I was trying to juggle that I've dropped, and now the cogs are turning toward total apathy toward it all, everything and all I can think about is that I am a shell of a human being. I'm a pushover. I'm to blame.

I'm sorry about what happened,' Love said. Death squeezed his hand. 'Play as yourself. Not as me. Trust me one that.

In all of our lives, there are days that we wish we could see expunged from the record of our very existence. Perhaps we long for that erasure because a particular day brought us such splintering sorrow that we can scarcely bear to think of it ever again. Or we might wish to blot out an episode forever because we behaved so poorly on that day- we were mortifyingly selfish, or foolish to an extraordinary degree. Or perhaps we injured another person and wish to disremember guilt. Tragically, there are some days in a lifetime when all three of those things happen at once- when we are heartbroken and foolish and unforgivably injurious to others, all at the same time.

Indeed, to this day, I think if you blame everything on the government, you're not just wrong, you're being reckless. It's as silly as blaming everything on the Freemasons, or the Illuminati, or insert-bad-guy-here. But I do believe that someone must ask the hard questions, especially of our elected officials as well as powerful men who become members of so-called secret societies. Remember: Governments don't lie. People lie. And if you want the real story, you need to find out more about those people.

Individuals who put underground their grief stay trapped in it. You will forever have your breakthrough!

I never cut my neighbor's throat; My neighbor's gold I never stole; I never spoiled his house and land; But God have mercy on my soul! For I am haunted night and day By all the deeds I have not done; O unattempted loveliness! O costly valor never won!

Innocence could be lost more than once after all.

In everyting around us dere is shape, and each of dose shapes have many sides. Dis also true in ‘ow we see tings in our minds.” My aunt taps her temple with her index finger. “It is torment . . . futility to try to repossess de past. You have dis moment to live. Don’t waste it on regrets.” The truth of the matter is I feel guilty for being alive while he is dead.

In my experience, the biggest reason people struggle to get where they want to be is guilt. Guilt that they have let someone down, and also guilt that they are about to leave someone they love ...behind.

In the construction of one’s life, we define ourselves largely by the problems we engage and the debts we incur. The greater and more sophisticated the problems, the greater and more sophisticated the person. True resolution, or transcendence of endless dichotomy, is rare indeed. To truly make a debt vanish requires, in a way, a certain kind of magic. In all traditions, this is looked upon as one of the great mystical tricks. It is not forgotten, fixed, or hidden perfectly; it disappears. To have this occur, one must do more than simply forgive (another or oneself), although in action that’s an important step. One intuits the value of the problem as the birth of possibility.

Intentions are nothing

In Revenge, as in life, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In the end the guilty always fall.

In the Code of Canon Law, it states clearly: 'A person who is conscious of grave sin is not to celebrate Mass or receive the body of the Lord without previous sacramental confession.' I haven’t attended confession in well over a decade, and that’s less because of dogmatic conflict than it is because of moral cowardice. Deeper than that, maybe I don’t want to be forgiven. I want to be punished. Which may be just about the most selfish, egotistical thought I’ve ever had. I’m sick with self-love. Or self-loathing. After all, they’re both essentially the same thing.

In the end, it was the secrets that held me hostage and fuelled my depression, but, once released, emancipation - from fear, shame, guilt and judgement - was finally possible.

I see you kneeling in church—stained only by colored windows

…In the very simplicity of her desire to punish herself appeared egoism in its purest form. Never before had this woman who seemed to think only of herself experienced an egoism so immaculate.

I rushed to the bathroom for every corner of the hospital was suffocating. I got hold of acid-bottle, which was meant for toilet cleaning. As I took it into my hands, I realized I had more filth inside me than a toilet. A toilet could be cleaned by an acid bottle, or a toilet cleaner, but there was no such product that could cleanse a criminal from inside. I felt so ashamed of myself that I couldn’t even look into the eyes of my reflection in the mirror on the wall.

I should have seen it coming.” The words don’t surprise me, but they piss me off. I pull away and glare down at her. “Don’t you fucking dare, Nell Hawthorne. Don’t you dare put this on yourself. You should never have to see shit like this coming.” She backs away, stunned and afraid by the intensity I know is radiating off me. “Colton, I just meant he’s always shown—” “Stop. Just stop right there. Granted, you should’ve never gotten involved with a douchetard like him, but that’s no excuse for what he did.

In this sense every serious choice has a tragicomic dimension. For it is impossible to be a human being without choosing, and it is impossible to choose without value denials, and it is impossible to deny values without guilt. That is a very simple though, but it forms the core definition of guilt: an awareness of significant value loss for which I know myself to be responsible. Guilt is the self-knowing of moral loss.

I recall as a child when I got so hostile that I didn’t know whom to trust anymore, and then I would still act as if everything was alright. I would put that brilliant smile; which people love about me still right away. I am told to have the very beautiful smile, that smile became my signature throughout my life.

I remember that life in that room seemed to be occurring beneath the sea, time flowed past indifferently above us, hours and days had no meaning. In the beginning our life held a joy and amazement which was newborn every day. Beneath the joy, of course, was anguish and beneath the amazement was fear; but they did not work themselves to the beginning until our high beginning was aloes on our tongues. By then anguish and fear had become the surface on which we slipped and slid, losing balance, dignity, and pride.

It is taken as a strong proof of a man's innocence that he should look you full in the face with a steadfast gaze when you look at him with suspicion plainly visible in your eyes; but would he not be the poorest villain if he shirked that encounter of glances when he knows full surely that he is in that moment put to the test? It is rather innocence whose eyelids drop when you peer too closely into its eyes, for innocence is appalled by the stern, accusing glances which it is unprepared to meet. Guilt stares you boldly in the face, for guilt is hardened and defiant, and has this one grand superiority over innocence-- that it is prepared for the worst.

It doesn't matter how deep you bury an incriminating letter in the trash, it's still there. It doesn't matter how far you push a body back into a tunnel, either. That's still there, too. Even if it's been destroyed, it's still there. You know this already. You'll have bodies stashed in tunnels of your own. Things you've done, mistakes you've made, secrets you hold - the guilt you carry for moments that stick out in your past like black stars in the firmament of your inner life. The outlier occurrences. The anomalies. The events you look back upon in disbelief, wondering how the hell they could have come to pass, and if they can be made to fit in a story you are prepared to own. But the truth is, you get where you're going not through the long, forgettable years of sticking to the path, but through the moments when you wander off it. It's the things that don't make sense that reveal who you are inside. The anomalies make you who you are. That realization will not make you feel any better about them. Time may help you turn a blind eye, but guilt is the stain that never goes away.

There is no client as scary as an innocent man." J. Michael Haller, Criminal Defense Attorney, Los Angeles, 1962.

It is important to recognize guilt as the temporary teacher it is.

It is my personal opinion that all survivors can go from victim to victor and live more than a survivor.

It is the unspeakable misery of a life so false as his, that it steals the pith and substance out of whatever realities there are around us, and which were meant by Heaven to be the spirit’s joy and nutriment. To the untrue man, the whole universe is false—it is impalpable—it shrinks to nothing within his grasp. And he himself in so far as he shows himself in a false light, becomes a shadow, or, indeed, ceases to exist.

It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief.

I touched curiosity, I kissed sin, I felt regret, And I was forgiven. But life won't let me forget.