Remorse (n.) knows the road better than eagerness does, as the traveler under a burden learns the way that the quick one rushes past.
Remorse (n.) always calls at the eleventh hour, whether in youth or old age; repent at any other hour and you shrink your guilt to nothing.
Remorse (n.) is the bitterest pain, but it has ethical not aesthetic reality: its total transparency of guilt and its sacredness keep it off the stage.
Remorse (n.) stumbled upon on the road to resolution singles a man out: he dare no longer think of himself as a generic man, and comes under the crossfire of love and existence.
Remorse (n.) can be selfish — self-love that would like to be proud of itself and without sin — so consolation is what it least needs; every consoling thought only worsens it.