The memory of the dead is indeed a good remorse. (Le souvenir des morts – Est bien un bon remords)

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...

Dread remorse when you are tempted to err, Miss Eyre; remorse is the poison of life.

I did not want to be taken for a fool – the typical French reason for performing the worst of deeds without remorse.

Because no retreat from the world can mask what is in your face.

When such as I cast out remorseSo great a sweetness flows into the breastWe must laugh and we must sing,We are blest by everything,Everything we look upon is blest.

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...

Everytime I hold you is the last time I hold you, I’ve known that since the very first time.

I have received the pilgrim—a disguised deity, as I verily believe. Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine.

It is the bungled crime that brings remorse.

Remorse shows the difference between a cruel person and one that is not.

Remorse is the pain of sin.

I know I’m the one who has shattered the perfection that was our souls as one.

In my dream, people apologized for things that were about to happen, and lit candles by inhaling.

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

Never apologize, mister, it’s a sign of weakness.

…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.

There is a degree of sympathy, but it’s mixed with remorse. We recognize their right to fight for their rights, but it’s a bit shocking to recognize that what they want is to be Americans....

God has broken me in every way possible. I spent a year not caring, a year trying to figure out what I’d done to deserve it. and a year trying to make it right.

One man’s remorse is another man’s reminiscence.