William Gurnall Quotes

Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.

The torture of a bad conscience is the hell of a living soul.

How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.

Sharp and fell remorse, the offspring of my sin! Why do you, O God, lacerate my heart so late? Why, O boding cries, that scream so close to me,--why do I listen to you now, and never heard you before?

There is no person so severely punished, as those who subject themselves to the whip of their own remorse.

Remorse: beholding heaven and feeling hell.

There is no wretchedness like self-reproach.

How awful is that hour when con, science stings.

Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid As can express my guilt.

Our faults afflict us more than our good deeds console. Pain is ever uppermost in the conscience as in the heart.

Being conscious of having done a wicked action leaves stings of remorse behind it, which, like an ulcer in the flesh, makes the mind smart with perpetual wounds; for reason, which chases away all other pains, creates repentance, shames the soul with confusion, and punishes it with torment.

Come t'e' picciol fallo amaro morso! Dante. What grievous pain a little fault doth give thee!

It's a horrible thing to realize what you've done.

O conscience, upright and stainless, how bitter a sting to thee is a little fault!

Even as the words came out of my mouth, my heart was dying a million deaths.

How tedious is a guilty conscience!

God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.

We do not always remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them, cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness. All of the things that Shadow had done in his life of which he was not proud, all the things he wished he had done otherwise or left undone, came at him then in a swirling storm of guilt and regret and shame, and he had nowhere to hide from them. He was as naked and as open as a corpse on a table, and dark Anubis the jackal god was his prosector and his prosecutor and his persecutor.

Vengeance taken will often tear the heart and torment the conscience.

I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.

He let out a hiss of pain,then smiled that crooked, sheepish smile he always fell back on when he was caught doing something bad. "Sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I just- I've been lying here for hours, thinking about blood.

I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if creeping into this world, I had profaned a mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity.

Remorse weeps tears of blood.

Over what guilty spirit to not hear the beating, to not hear the beating, but only tears of perfect moan, only tears of perfect moan.