John Milton Quotes

No torment in the world is comparable to an accusing conscience.

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

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?

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

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

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.

Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.

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.

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

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

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

Memory haunts me from age to age, and passion leads me by the hand--evil have I done, and with sorrow have I made acquaintance from age to age, and from age to age evil shall I do, and sorrow shall I know till my redemption comes.

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.

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

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

I never meant it," he was saying. "Never meant it to happen. Can't stand it, seeing her suffer. Must do something, do something... What do I do? What can I do...?

I think remorse ought to stop biting the consciences that feed it.

Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.

When my young men began the killing, my heart was hurt.

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

My painting carries with it the message of pain.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.