Remorse, the fatal egg by Pleasure laid.

 

Remorse, the fatal egg by Pleasure laid.
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Line 240.

 

William Cowper

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Is there not a sort of remorse that precedes sin? Was it remorse at the very fact that I existed?

 

Yukio Mishima

 

Melancholy and remorse form the deep leaden keel which enables us to sail into the wind of reality; we run aground sooner than the flat-bottomed pleasure-lovers but we venture out in weather that would sink them and we choose our direction.

 

Cyril Connolly

 

Epicurus laid down the doctrine that pleasure was the chief good.

 

Diogenes Laertius

 

'Twas thine own genius gave the final blow,
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low:
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
View'd his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.

 

Lord Byron

 

He remembered the dissolute adventures in which his senses, his nervous system and his mind had indulged; he saw himself corroded by irony and intellect, laid waste and paralyzed by insight, almost exhausted by the fevers and chills of creation, helplessly and contritely tossed to and fro between gross extremes, between saintly austerity and lust — oversophisticated and impoverished, worn out by cold, rare artificial ecstasies, lost, ravaged, racked and sick — and he sobbed with remorse and nostalgia.

 

Thomas Mann