Remorse

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Heptaméron (1559)

  " You talk at random," said Simontault ; " but we, who know something about the matter, may be allowed to say what we think of it. For my part, I say that he was a fool the first time, and a blockhead the second. It is my belief that, in keeping his word to his mistress, he made her suffer as much as himself, or more. She only exacted that promise from him to make herself appear a better conducted woman than she really was ; for she could not but know that there is no com.mand, or oath, or anything else in the world, which is capable of stopping the headlong impulses of a violent love. She was very glad to cover her vice under an appearance of virtue, and make believe that she was accessible for nothing beneath a heroic virtue. He was a blockhead the second time to leave her who loved him, and was worth more than the other, especially when he had .so good an excuse as the provocation he had received." " I say quite the contrary," interrupted Dagoucin. " The first time he showed himself firm, patient, and a man of his word ; and the second time, faithful, and lov- ing to perfection." " And who knows," said Saffredent, "but he was one of those whom a chapter names de frigidis et male- ficiatisf* But that nothing might be wanting to the * This is an allusion to the penalties pronounced by several councils, and repeated in the Capitularies and the Decretals of Pope Boniface VIII., against those who were supposed guilty of having by magical practices deprived a bridegroom of the power of con- summating his nuptials. :iecondday:\ QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 1 75 glory of this hero, Hircan ought to have acquainted us it" he did his duty when he got what he wanted. We should then have been able to judge whether he was so chaste through virtue or through impotence." " You may be sure," said Hircan, " that if I had been told this, I should not have concealed it any more than the rest. But knowing as I do the man and his temper- ament, I attribute his conduct to the force of his love, and not at all to impotence or coldness." " If that is the case," said Saffredent, " he ought to have laughed at his promise. Had the fair one been offended at his doing so, it would not have been very hard to appease her." " But, perhaps," said Ennasuite, " she would not then have consented." "That's a fine idea !" cried Saffredent. "Was he not strong enough to force her, since she had given him the opportunity .^ " " Holy Mary ! " exclaimed Nomerfide, " how you talk ! Is that the way to win the good graces of a lady who is believed to be chaste and modest } "

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  Just past the entrance on the left there was a huge casino complex, from the depths of which I could hear the driving beat of dance music; there must have been a disco there, where even in the off-season the morning had yet to come. I wanted to see the water, but not just to see it; I wanted to be close to it, to imagine if not to feel the unearthly cold of it. And so I walked more purposefully through the garden, bypassing, as best I could, its more winding paths, and when I reached again the line of hotels and bars and, beyond them, the road, I didn’t retreat, I crossed the road and held my face to the wind, though it was biting and filled now with snow. Three long walkways extended from the beach into the sea, branching out at their ends into three separate promenades, like the arms, it seemed to me, of a snowflake as drawn by a child. I walked to one of these piers, which unlike the park was deserted, as was the sea, except for the gulls and, far out in the water, two huge tankers that sat unmoving at the horizon. At the near end of the pier there was a large stone sculpture, two stylized figures in robes, who might as easily have been monks as sailors and who seemed to be embracing although they were looking away from each other, one toward the sea and one toward the shore, an image of irreconcilable desires. The stone was pocked and scarred, already dissolving in the abrasive air. I walked the length of the pier, which was lined with huge stone objects shaped like jacks from the children’s game, a defense against the heavier element of the sea. I walked to the farthest point of the pier, to its very edge, and spent some time looking at these stones and at the white froth surging between them. I felt the pressure of the water striking the stones and the steadfastness of their resistance, of what seems like their resistance and is simply a slower giving way. The snow was easing now though the wind was still fierce, the air tossed the birds as wildly as the sea. I could already sense remorse gathering, it was distant and abstract still but I knew it would flood in, that it would be terrible, and as I watched the motion of the sea I accused myself, thinking bitterly oh, what have I done.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  PUNISHMENTS OF PURGATORY FOR UNEXPIATED MORTAL SINSAlthough some souls may be admitted to eternal beatitude as soon as they are released from their bodies, others may be held back from this happiness for a time. For it sometimes happens that during their lives people have not done full penance for the sins they have committed, but for which they have been sorry in the end. Since the order of divine justice demands that punishment be undergone for sins, we must hold that souls pay after this life the penalty they have not paid while on earth. This does not mean that they are banished to the ultimate misery of the damned, since by their repentance they have been brought back to the state of charity, whereby they cleave to God as their last end, so that they have merited eternal life. Hence we conclude that there are certain purgatorial punishments after this life, by which the debt of penalty not previously paid is discharged. CHAPTER 182 PUNISHMENT IN PURGATORY FOR VENIAL SINSIt also happens that some men depart this life free from mortal sin but nevertheless stained with venial sin. The commission of such sins does not, indeed, turn them from their last end; but by committing them they have erred with regard to the means leading to the end, out of undue attachment to those means. In the case of some perfect men sins of this kind are expiated by the fervor of their love. But in others these sins must be atoned for by punishment of some sort; no one is admitted to the possession of eternal life unless he is free from all sin and imperfection. Therefore we must acknowledge the existence of purgatorial punishment after this life. Such punishments derive their cleansing power from the condition of those who suffer them. For the souls in purgatory are adorned with charity, by which their wills are conformed to the divine will; it is owing to this charity that the punishments they suffer avail them for cleansing. This is why punishment has no cleansing force in those who lack charity, such as the damned. The defilement of their sin remains forever, and so their punishment endures forever. CHAPTER 183

• From Dante's Divine Comedy (2001)

  T h e y o u n g w o m a n w h o m D a n t e w r o t e a b o u t i n t h e Vita Nuova has undergone a significant transformation. D. S h e a c c u s e s D a n t e o f h a v i n g s q u a n d e r e d h i s g i f t s , t h u s t a k i n g o n the position of judge of Dante. E. S h e c h a s t i s e s D a n t e f o r h i s f a i l u r e t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e m e a n i n g o f her life and her death. F. W e s e e t h e p o e t r e w r i t i n g h i s e a r l i e r p o e t r y a n d t h e p o s i t i o n s h e held then. G. B e a t r i c e r e m i n d s h i m t h a t t angible attainments (fame, power, wealth, and so on) are turned to dust by time. VI. I n C a n t o 3 1 , D a n t e c o n f e s s e s h i s s i n s . H e d o e s n o t r e a c t d e f e n s i v e l y o r shift blame, as the damned souls did. A. B e a t r i c e a n d D a n t e c o n t i n u e t o i n t e r a c t w i t h e a c h o t h e r .

• From Blue Like Jazz (2003)

  When he came back I asked him if we could talk. I told him it was time we dealt with it. He kept wanting to walk away from the conversation because he was so mad, but I wouldn’t let him. I was ready to apologize. I told him I didn’t feel like he cared about me because he started his motorcycle every morning, and I had become defensive about that, and that made me want to get him back, and I had done that sort of subconsciously, with little comments and that sort of thing. I had never told him, at the very beginning, that I felt like he didn’t like me and I wanted him to. Instead, I had been proud and passive-aggressive. That was why we were experiencing all of this. And I told him that I felt bad. I didn’t accuse him of anything, which looking back was very, very important. And, also, I didn’t expect anything from him in return. I really didn’t feel like he owed me anything. Jeremy listened very carefully once he had calmed down. He was great. He told me how much he liked me, and that meant the world to me. In that moment I could feel all the anger I had been feeling melt away. I couldn’t even remember what I was angry about. And the next morning, when Jeremy started his motorcycle, it didn’t even wake me up. I was in San Francisco recently staying at this bed and breakfast place for people who are in the city to do ministry. It was a small house, but there were probably fifteen people living there at the time. The guy who ran the place, Bill, was always making meals or cleaning up after us, and I took note of his incredible patience and kindness. I noticed that not all of us did our dishes after a meal, and very few people thanked him for cooking. One morning, before anybody woke up, Bill and I were drinking coffee at the dining room table. I told him I lived with five guys and that it was very difficult for me because I liked my space and needed my privacy. I asked him how he kept such a good attitude all of the time with so many people abusing his kindness. Bill set down his coffee and looked me in the eye. “Don,” he said. “If we are not willing to wake up in the morning and die to ourselves, perhaps we should ask ourselves whether or not we are really following Jesus.” 16 Money Thoughts on Paying Rent

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  No sooner was the sin committed than she was seized with the most poignant remorse, and her repentance lasted as long as her life So keen was her anguish on rising from beside her son, who never discovered his mis- take, that entering a closet, and calling to mind the firm resolution she had formed and which she had so badly executed, she parsed the whole night alone in an agony of tears. But instead of humbling herself and owning that of ourselves alone, and without the aid of God, we can do nothing but sin, she thought by her own efforts and by her tears to repair the past and prevent future mischief, always imputing her sin to the occasion, and not to wickedness, for which there is no remedy but the grace of God. As if there was but one sort of sin which could bring damnation, she applied her whole mind to avoid that one ; but pride, which the sense of extreme sinfulness should destroy, was too strongly rooted in her heart, and grew in such a manner, that, to avoid one evil, she committed many others. Early next morning she sent for her son's governor, and said to him, " My son is coming to maturity, and it 284 ^ATi? HEPTAMERON OF THE \N<rvel 30

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  71. But he began to curse and to swear, saying, I know not this man of whom ye speak. 72. And the second time the cock crew. And Peter called to mind the word that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Concerning the temptation of Peter, which happened during the injuries before mentioned, all the Evangelists do not speak in the same order. For Luke first relates the temptation of Peter, then these injuries of the Lord; but John begins to speak of the temptation of Peter, and then puts in some things concerning our Lord’s ill-treatment, and adds, that He was sent from there to Caiaphas the High Priest, and then he goes back to unfold the temptation of Peter, which he had begun. Matthew and Mark on the other hand first notice the injuries done to Christ, then the temptation of Peter. Concerning which it is said, And as Peter was beneath in the palace, there cometh one of the maids of the High Priest. BEDE. (upi. sup.) But what can be meant by his being first recognised by a woman, when men were more able to know him, if it be not that that sex might be seen to sin in the death of our Lord, and that sex be redeemed by His Passion? It goes on: But he denied, saying, I know not, neither understand I what thou sayest. PSEUDO-JEROME. Peter when he had not the Spirit yielded and lost courage at the voice of a girl, though with the Spirit he was not afraid before princes and kings. THEOPHYLACT. The Lord allowed this to happen to him by His providence, that is, lest he should be too much elated, and at the same time, that he might prove himself merciful to sinners, as knowing from himself the result of human weakness. There follows: And he went out into the porch; and the cock crew. BEDE. (ubi sup.) The other Evangelists do not mention this crowing of the cock; they do not however deny the fact, as also some pass over many other things in silence, which others relate. There follows: And a maid saw him again, and began to say to them that stood by, This is one of them

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  Or maybe it wasn’t that either, maybe it was just the endless alcohol he drank, though he was still so young, I don’t know. And then I remembered what he had said that night in the McDonald’s, just before the encounter I had thought of so often since, with longing and excitement and remorse so tightly bound there was no picking them apart, when he said that the drugs we were both to take were dangerous for him. Maybe he hadn’t been able to walk away from the illness unscathed, as I had; maybe that was what I meant by that syllable I repeated, oh, the unfairness of the luck I couldn’t regret, even as already it was opening up some great space between us, an even greater distance than had existed before. And so I said his name a third time, calling to him across that open space, though he didn’t respond, he just kept rocking back and forth, already unreachable. I want to go, he said then, and heaved himself off the couch. He swayed for a moment and stumbled, catching himself by throwing out first one leg and then, as he began to fall forward, the other. Maybe he had stood up too quickly and was dizzy, in addition to being drunk and whatever else he was, and in this odd, almost falling way he moved from the main room to the hallway. I stood too, unsure whether I should stop him or be grateful the ordeal had been so brief. Now that I knew or thought I knew I would finally be rid of him I didn’t want him to go, and I was almost happy to see him turn away from the door, walking or stumbling instead down the hallway to my bedroom. I got up to follow, and watched as he collided with the bed and then fell down upon it, as if he were feeling his way in the dark and had been surprised by it. He lay for a moment and then pushed himself up, swaying before half falling again. He stayed then in a half-sitting, half-lying posture, his hands still working, I saw, gripping and releasing the light blanket I had been sleeping under.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  I walked the length of the pier, which was lined with huge stone objects shaped like jacks from the children’s game, a defense against the heavier element of the sea. I walked to the farthest point of the pier, to its very edge, and spent some time looking at these stones and at the white froth surging between them. I felt the pressure of the water striking the stones and the steadfastness of their resistance, of what seems like their resistance and is simply a slower giving way. The snow was easing now though the wind was still fierce, the air tossed the birds as wildly as the sea. I could already sense remorse gathering, it was distant and abstract still but I knew it would flood in, that it would be terrible, and as I watched the motion of the sea I accused myself, thinking bitterly oh, what have I done. I stood there until I was chilled beneath my clothes and my face was numb with cold. Then I turned and walked back toward the shore, stamping my feet a little to quicken the sluggish blood. The buses of the 76 line are old and in poor repair, and the one that finally pulled up the next morning looked like all the others, square and painted a flat metallic green. It was double length, the two compartments joined by a great hinge in the center, the seam sealed with accordioned plastic that gave and took up slack as the two halves struggled against each other on the poor roads. The plastic was torn in places, letting in drafts that were painfully cold and yet did nothing somehow to relieve the stifling heat. My stop was early enough on the route that I was able to find a seat, and I wiped the window with my sleeve, clearing a half circle in the condensation, though it fogged over again almost at once. At each stop more people got on and only a few got off; by Tsarigradsko Shose, the boulevard leading downtown, the bus was full, and a large older woman had taken the seat next to me.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  Once a month, Ian was allowed to make a phone call. Soon after he arrived in prison, on Christmas Eve in 1992, he used his call to reach out to Debbie Baigre, the woman he shot. When she answered the phone, Ian spilled out an emotional apology, expressing his deep regret and remorse. Ms. Baigre was stunned to hear from the boy who had shot her, but she was moved by his call. She had physically recovered from the shooting and was working to become a successful bodybuilder and had started a magazine focused on women’s health. She was a determined woman who didn’t let the shooting derail her from her goals. That first surprising phone call led to a regular correspondence. Ian had been neglected by his family before the crime took place. He’d been left to wander the streets with little parental or family support. In solitary, he met few prisoners or correctional staff. As he sank deeper into despair, Debbie Baigre became one of the few people in Ian’s life who encouraged him to remain strong. After communicating with Ian for several years, Baigre wrote the court and told the judge who sentenced Ian of her conviction that his sentence was too harsh and that his conditions of confinement were inhumane. She tried to talk to prison officials and gave interviews to the press to draw attention to Ian’s plight. “No one knows more than I do how destructive and reckless Ian’s crime was. But what we’re currently doing to him is mean and irresponsible,” she told one reporter. “When this crime was committed, he was a child, a thirteen-year-old boy with a lot of problems, no supervision, and no help available. We are not children.” The courts ignored Debbie Baigre’s call for a reduced sentence. By 2010, Florida had sentenced more than a hundred children to life imprisonment without parole for non-homicide offenses, several of whom were thirteen years old at the time of the crime. All of the youngest condemned children—thirteen or fourteen years of age—were black or Latino. Florida had the largest population in the world of children condemned to die in prison for non-homicides. — The section of South Central Los Angeles where Antonio Nuñez lived was plagued by gang violence. Antonio’s mother would force her children to the floor when shooting erupted outside their crowded home, which happened with disturbing regularity. Nearly a dozen of their neighbors were shot and killed after being caught in the crossfire of gun violence.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  He paused dramatically. “After I told all of ’em what I’d done, everybody said I needed to make it right. That’s what I’m tryin’ to do.” He paused again to let me take it all in. “Hey, y’all gonna buy me a damn soda, or am I just gonna sit here all day looking at them damn vending machines and pouring my heart out?” He smiled for the first time since we’d been together. Michael jumped up and walked over to buy him a drink. “Hey, Jimmy, Sunkist Orange, if they got it.” For more than two hours, I asked questions and Ralph gave answers. By the end, he did, in fact, blow my mind. He told us about being pressured by the sheriff and the ABI and threatened with the death penalty if he didn’t testify against McMillian. He made accusations of official corruption, talked about his involvement in the Pittman murder, and revealed his earlier attempts to recant. He ultimately admitted that he had never known anything about the Morrison murder, had no clue what had happened to her or anything else at all about the crime. He said that he had told lots of people—from the D.A. on down—that he had been coerced to testify falsely against Walter. If even half of what he said was true, there were a lot of people involved in this case who knew, from the mouth of his sole accuser, that Walter McMillian had had nothing to do with the murder of Ronda Morrison. Ralph was on his third Sunkist Orange when he stopped his stream of confessions, leaned forward, and beckoned us closer. He spoke in a whisper to Michael and me. “You know they’ll try to kill you if you actually get to the bottom of everything.” We would learn that Ralph could never let a meeting end without dropping some final dramatic insight, observation, or prediction. I reassured him that we would be careful. — On the drive back to Montgomery, Michael and I debated how much we could trust Myers. What he told us about the McMillian case all made sense. His story at trial was so implausible that it was easy to believe that he had been pressured to testify falsely. The corruption narrative that he seemed intent to expose was harder to assess. Myers claimed to have committed the Vickie Pittman murder under the direction of another local sheriff; he laid out to us a widespread conspiracy involving police, drug dealing, and money laundering. It was quite a tale.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  We spent weeks following up on the leads that Myers had provided. He admitted to us that he had never met Walter and only knew of him through Karen Kelly. He also confirmed that he had been spending time with Karen Kelly and that she was involved in the Pittman murder. So we decided to confirm the story with Kelly herself, now a prisoner at the Tutwiler Prison for Women, where she was serving a ten-year sentence for the Pittman murder. Tutwiler is one of the state’s oldest prisons and the only prison in the state for women. It has fewer security restrictions than the men’s prisons. When Michael and I drove up to the gate, we could see incarcerated women hovering outside the prison entrance with no officers in view. The women eyed Michael and me carefully before greeting us with curious smiles. We were subjected to a very cursory pat-down in the prison lobby by a male officer before being admitted through the barred gate to the main prison area. We were told to wait for Karen Kelly in a very small room that was empty except for a square table. Kelly was a slender white woman in her mid-thirties who walked into the room wearing no restraints or handcuffs. She seemed surprisingly comfortable, shaking my hand confidently before nodding at Michael. She was wearing makeup, including a garish shade of green eye shadow. She sat down and announced that Walter had been framed and that she was grateful finally to be able to tell someone. When we began with our questions, she quickly confirmed that Myers had not known Walter before the Morrison murder. “Ralph is a fool. He thought he could trust those crooked cops, and he let them talk him into saying he was involved with a crime he didn’t know anything about. He’s done enough bad that he didn’t need to go around making stuff up.” Though she was calm at the outset of our interview, she became increasingly emotional as she started detailing the events surrounding the case. She wept more than once. She spoke with remorse about how her life had spiraled out of control when she started abusing drugs. “I’m not a bad person, but I’ve made some really foolish, bad decisions.” She was especially upset that Walter was on death row. “I feel like I’m the reason that he’s in prison. He’s just not the kind of person that would kill somebody, I know that.” Then her tone turned bitter. “I made a lot of mistakes, but those people should be ashamed. They’ve done just as much bad as I’ve done. Sheriff Tate only had one thing on his mind. He just kept saying, ‘Why you want to sleep with niggers? Why you want to sleep with niggers?’ It was awful, and he’s awful.” She paused and looked down at her hands. “But I’m awful, too. Look at what I’ve done,” she said sadly. —

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  It was Phil and Bill who were the naughty ones and I refused to be cowed by them further. My mood was all torn, and had not been helped by my finding, when I was in the bath, a single dark hair (too dark to be mine) trapped on the soap in a long looped wiggle like Corporal Trim’s flourish with his stick. It wouldn’t just wipe off, and I had to scratch at it and gouge at the soap with a fingernail to get rid of it, all knotted up as I was with revulsion and pathos. It was the most thoughtlessly intimate of all the reminders of Phil in the flat—his trainers, his throw-away razors, his bits of paper—insisting it could hardly be over. The Corry too, of course, was running with the idea of him—but he was nowhere to be seen, and Nigel, who would have noticed, assured me he had not been in the pool. I looked abruptly into the weights room, but Bill’s worried features were not to be made out either. I did, however, run into Charles on my way out. He was sitting in the melancholy cafeteria, looking through the plate-glass windows at the gym-floor below. He was finding it difficult to drink hot coffee from his flimsy plastic beaker. I sat down heavily opposite him. ‘Fascinating athlete, that young man down there,’ he said. I followed his gaze to the shirtless figure dancing at the punchbag. ‘Yes, that’s Maurice. He’s a dream, isn’t he. Not, however, musical.’ ‘Quite so, quite so. I must get him a job.’ ‘I think you’ll find he’s got one already,’ I said with a little fading snigger. Charles was looking at me closely, and I looked down, and then away again to Maurice, cutting and jabbing in wonderful ignorance of his spectators and their quandary. ‘I’ve made a mess of things, haven’t I,’ said Charles. I shook my head. ‘ You’ve made a mess of things! Dear Charles. I’ve been thinking about this all the time but I still don’t know what to say. But you have not made a mess of anything. Except, of course, that I can’t do the book.’ ‘You could.’ ‘I can’t.’ He followed Maurice again. ‘You’ve no idea of the quite extraordinary, powerful and—my dear—entirely kind conviction of rightness I had when I discovered who you were. It was such a perfect idea; too perfect perhaps to be enacted by decent human beings. Good punching! Marvellous boy!

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  But you may think, “I shall say what goes first in the petition, namely, ‘forgive us,’ but that ‘As we forgive those who trespass against us,’ I shall not say.” Would you seek to deceive Christ? You certainly do not deceive Him. For Christ who made this prayer remembers it well, and cannot be deceived. If therefore, you say it with the lips, let the heart fulfill it. But one may ask whether he who does not intend to forgive his neighbor ought to say: “As we forgive those who trespass against us.” It seems not, for such is a lie. But actually it must be said that he does not lie, because he prays not in his own person, but in that of the Church which is not deceived, and, therefore the petition itself is in the plural number. And it must also be known that forgiveness is twofold. One applies to the perfect, where the one offended seeks out the offender: “Seek after peace.” The other is common to all, and to it all are equally bound, that one offended grant pardon to the one who seeks it: “Forgive thy neighbor if he hath hurt thee; and then shall thy sins be forgiven to thee when thou prayest.” And from this follows that other beatitude: “Blessed are the merciful.” For mercy causes us to have pity on our neighbor. (For “Questions for Discussion” see Chapter 6.) THE SIXTH PETITION “And Lead Us Not Into Temptation.”There are those who have sinned and desire forgiveness for their sins. They confess their sins and repent. Yet, they do not strive as much as they should in order that they may not fall into sin again. In this indeed they are not consistent. For, on the one hand, they deplore their sins by being sorry for them; and, on the other hand, they sin again and again and have them again to deplore. Thus it is written: “Wash yourselves, be clean. Take away the evil of your devices from my eyes. Cease to do perversely.” We have seen in the petition above that Christ taught us to seek forgiveness for our sins. In this petition, He teaches us to pray that we might avoid sin—that is, that we may not be led into temptation, and thus fall into sin. “And lead us not into temptation.” Three questions are now considered: (1) What is temptation? (2) In what ways is one tempted and by whom? (3) How is one freed from temptation?

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  II. On the second head it is to be noted, that penitence consists in three conditions, which are the effects of contrition. (1) In faith: “Thy faith hath made thee whole.” “Purifying their hearts by faith,” Acts 15:9. “A broken and contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise,” Ps. 51:17. (2) In humility, which is the preparer for confession: “Came behind.” S. Bernard says, that for a man to make a proper confession of his sins is the ninth stage in humility: “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed,” S. James 5:16. (3) In the toil of satisfaction: “Touched the hem of His garment.” “Bring forth therefore fruits meet for repentance,” S. Matt. 3:8. S. Gregory the Great observes, that anyone who returns to God with the heart, acquires by repentance a gain by so much the greater, as he had suffered loss from his sin. III. On the third head it is to be noted, that a threefold reward is here indicated as flowing from repentance. (1) That God turns towards the sinner, against whom He was both angry and opposed: “Thus saith the Lord of Hosts: Turn ye unto Me, saith the Lord of Hosts, and I will turn unto you, saith the Lord of Hosts. Be not as your fathers, unto whom the former prophets have cried, saying, Thus saith the Lord of Hosts: turn ye now from your evil ways, and from your evil doings: but they did not hear, nor hearken unto me, saith the Lord. Your fathers, where are they? and the prophets, do they live for ever?” Zech. 1:3–6. (2) That the grace of God is infused into the soul: whence Jesus looked upon Peter (and he wept bitterly), whom He had delivered from the sin of denying Him, and did not permit him to fall from the elevation of the Apostolate: “And Peter remembered the word of Jesus, Who said unto Him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny Me thrice. And he went out and wept bitterly,” S. Matt. 26:75. For the Lord is as the sun, which shining makes the crops to live and to be fruitful. “Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me,” Ps. 25:16. (3) That salvation comes from repentance: “And the woman was made whole.” “Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth,” Isa. 45:22. HOMILY XLIX THE PREPARATION FOR THE COMING TWENTY-FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—(FROM THE EPISTLE)“Behold, the day is come, saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a righteous Branch, and a King shall reign and prosper, and shall execute justice and judgment in the earth.”—Jer. 23:5.

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  To the prince’s dismay, he returned to find the queen completely changed. Her skin seemed unnaturally taut, as if it had been stretched too tightly over her frame. Her eyes looked like those of a hawk, large and bulging. Her breasts were hard and unnatural looking and she was painfully thin. He realized instantly what she had done. But he loved her still and so, with less effort than it would take to pick up a small bird, he lifted the queen onto his horse and rode with her to his cottage. But on this occasion, no roses were in bloom and the cottage seemed cheerless and damp. Upon entering the dwelling, the queen felt remorseful and wretched. She rushed up the stairs to the bedchamber in the hopes that the pleasure she had found there before would bring her comfort, but alas, upon peering into the unenchanted mirror, she gasped in horror. Her appearance was like something inhuman! She fell on the bed full of regret and weeping. She could not stay another minute in the cottage with the prince. And so it was for three long months that the prince remained alone and unhappy, the queen remained a queen who was not expired, and Snow White remained in her glass coffin. Then one day, while the queen was in her bedchamber, she came upon the roses she had taken from the prince’s cottage. To her amazement, they were completely intact and as fresh as the day she had picked them. She lifted them to her face, and their enchanted scent caused her to remember the time spent in the cottage with the prince. Suddenly she realized what she had given up and how unhappy she had been ever since. I must undo this deed, she thought. With swift determination she grabbed the bed warmer from her bed and hurled it with all her might into the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Next, she called for two messengers; the first of which she sent into the woods where Snow White slept in her coffin and the other she sent to her beloved servant. Then she waited. The queen waited in her bedchamber for hours, but for her they passed like minutes. As the sun slowly made its way across the afternoon sky, she was thinking about her visits to the cottage, so charming with its countless vines of tiny, enchanted roses. Even when the light grew steadily dimmer through her window, her face glowed and flushed as she recalled the images in the bedroom mirror. When at last the shadows began to cast about for their evening positions, the queen’s whole being ached for the soft and loving touch of her servant. She fancied that she could feel a slight loosening of her flesh, and a sudden terror seized her; but she was awakened from her alarm by the sound of a footstep in the doorway and there, she beheld, her servant-prince!

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  2. Offence is removed only by love. But by mortal sin man quarrels with God: for it is said that God hates’ sinners, inasmuch as He is minded to deprive them of the last end, which He has in preparation for them who love Him. Man then cannot rise from sin except by grace, whereby friendship is established between God and man. Hence it is said: It is I who blot out thine iniquities for my own sake (Isai. xliii, 25). Hereby is refuted the error of the Pelagians, who said that man can rise from sin by free will. CHAPTER CLIX HOW MAN IS DELIVERED FROM SINBECAUSE man cannot return to one opposite without retiring from the other, to return to the state of righteousness he must withdraw from sin, whereby he had declined from righteousness. And because it is chiefly by the will that man is set on the way to his last end, or turned away therefrom, he must not only withdraw from sin in exterior act by ceasing to sin, but he must further withdraw in will, that so he may rise again by grace. Now withdrawal of the will from sin means at once repentance for the past and a resolution to avoid sin in future. For if a man did not purpose to cease from sin, sin as it is in itself (or sin in general) would not be contrary to his will. If he were minded to cease from sin, but had no sorrow for sin past, that same particular sin of which he was guilty would not be against his will. Now the will must withdraw from sin by taking the course contrary to that which led it into sin. But it was led into sin by appetite and delight in inferior things. Therefore it must withdraw from sin by certain penal inflictions. As delight drew it to consent to sin, so these inflictions strengthen it in abomination of sin.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  After he had eaten, the monk laid hold of him anew and gave him another sound beating with the same rod; whereat Ferondo roared out lustily and said, 'Alack, why dost thou this to me?' Quoth the monk, 'Because thus hath God the Lord ordained that it be done unto thee twice every day.' 'And for what cause?' asked Ferondo. 'Because,' answered the monk, 'thou wast jealous, having the best woman in the country to wife.' 'Alas!' said Ferondo. 'Thou sayst sooth, ay, and the kindest creature; she was sweeter than syrup; but I knew not that God the Lord held it for ill that a man should be jealous; else had I not been so.' Quoth the monk, 'Thou shouldst have bethought thyself of that, whenas thou wast there below,[195] and have amended thee thereof; and should it betide that thou ever return thither, look thou so have in mind that which I do unto thee at this present that thou be nevermore jealous.' 'What?' said Ferondo. 'Do the dead ever return thither?' 'Ay,' answered the monk; 'whom God willeth.' 'Marry,' cried Ferondo, 'and I ever return thither, I will be the best husband in the world; I will never beat her nor give her an ill word, except it be anent the wine she sent hither this morning and for that she sent no candles, so it behoved me to eat in the dark.' 'Nay,' said the monk, 'she sent candles enough, but they were all burnt for the masses.' 'True,' rejoined Ferondo; 'and assuredly, an I return thither, I will let her do what she will. But tell me, who art thou that usest me thus?' Quoth the monk, 'I also am dead. I was of Sardinia and for that aforetime I much commended a master of mine of being jealous, I have been doomed of God to this punishment, that I must give thee to eat and drink and beat thee thus, till such time as God shall ordain otherwhat of thee and of me.' Then said Ferondo, 'Is there none here other than we twain?' 'Ay,' answered the monk, 'there be folk by the thousands; but thou canst neither see nor hear them, nor they thee.' Quoth Ferondo, 'And how far are we from our own countries?' 'Ecod,' replied the other, 'we are distant thence more miles than we can well cack at a bout.' 'Faith,' rejoined the farmer, 'that is far enough; meseemeth we must be out of the world, an it be so much as all that.' [Footnote 195: _i.e._ in the sublunary world.]

• From Fragments (7)

  WINE A MIRROR (12) For wine for men A mirror is, themselves to ken. WINE AND TRUTH (13) Ever wine, dear boy, Doth the truth decoy. 59 Lyric Songs of the Greeks WINE'S STING (14) He thinks that he is then most blessed When he at drinking is the best. Yet though sweet wine his heart delight, Its curse rebounds with twofold might: His head weighed down with heaviness, He chides his soul and does confess Repentance in his grief. Not then " Drink, drink ! ** is still a pleasing strain. CEASE DRINKING! SEIZE THE ^ RUDDER! (15) Pray, mix no more into the bowl, but know That I dislike to have thee labor so. Singing, carousing, gaily drinking. As though all parched, of naught else thinking. Why do we let the wintry morning breeze Sweep ever idly o*er the glistening seas? Would that a ship we quickly boarded. Cutting it loose from where we moored it. Then would we joyously the rudder seize, And then the sail-yards turn to front the breeze, Merrily thus forgetting evils — Far better 'tis than boisterous revels. 60 Alcaeus WREATHS AND MYRRH (16) Around our necks may some one lay Fresh wreaths of fragrant anise plaited; And some one down our breasts, I pray, Pour ointment sweet with perfume sated. MYRRH FOR OLD AGE (17) Upon this head oppressed with miseries sore And down this aged breast sweet ointment pour. LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP IN LOVE (18) I have fallen into Cypris' hands, And am now obeying her commands. A SERENADE (19) Accept, accept my serenading; Pray, listen, listen to my pleading. 6x Lyric Songs of the Greeks TO SAPPHO (20) violet-tressed Sappho chaste, O maid with honeyed smile! 1 fain would tell what is in my breast, Did shame me not beguile. TO CRINO (21) Crino, the beautiful Graces Received thee in their embraces. THE VIOLET-GIRDLED MAID (22) Sing and celebrate The violet-girdled maid. MENON (23) Some one call Menon, charming boy, If I the drinking shall enjoy. IN THE BLOOM OF HIS YOUTH (24) To thy presence having come, Sharing now thy youthful bloom, 62 Alcaeus POLITICAL SONGS THE SHIP OF STATE UNDER MYRSILUS (25) The winds' fierce strife I understand no longer; The rolling billows e'er are towering stronger, Now here, now there. We, tempest-tossed, In the black ship between are lost. The fury of the storm our limbs is chilling, The ship with water to the mast-hole filling. Great rifts in every sail are torn. To shreds our slackening cables worn. (26) Now comes a wave o'ertopping those before, Upon the ship its waters piling o'er. And we to bail must labor evermore. A LATER TYRANT COMPARED WITH MELANCHRUS (27) Thy treatment of our city is worthy of respect, Melanchrus, when one sees how he doth us aifect. 63 Lyric Songs of the Greeks PITTACUS IN POVERTY (28) Even thistles thou now must taste. Howe'er, for Arcadians 'tis no disgrace. A WARNING AGAINST PITTACUS (29)

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  CHAPTER CLVIII HOW MAN IS FREED FROM SINWHEREAS man cannot return to one of two opposites unless he go away from the other; in order by the aid of grace to return to the state of righteousness, he must withdraw from sin whereby he had abandoned the path of rectitude. And since it is chiefly by his will that man is directed to his ultimate end and turned away from it, it is necessary that he not only withdraw from sin in his external actions, by ceasing to sin, but also that he withdraw by his will, in order to rise from sin by grace. Now man withdraws from sin by his will, in repenting of the past sin, and purposing to avoid it for the future. Therefore in order to rise from sin man must both repent of past sins and purpose to avoid future sins. For did he not propose to sin no more, sin would not, in itself, be contrary to his will. And if he were willing to sin no more without repenting of his past sin, the sin itself that he committed would not be contrary to his will.—Now, the movement of recession from a thing is contrary to the movement of approach, as whitening is contrary to blackening. Hence in withdrawing from sin the will must take the contrary road to that which led it into sin. Now, it was led into sin by the desire and pleasure of things beneath it. Therefore it needs to turn away from sin by certain punishments, whereby it suffers for having sinned: for even as the will was drawn by pleasure to consent to sin, so by punishment it is confirmed in the detestation of sin. Again. Fear of the whip deters even dumb animals from their greatest delights. Now the man who arises from sin must not only detest his past sin, but also avoid future sin. It is, therefore, right that he should be punished for his sin, that he may be the more strengthened in his purpose to avoid sin. Besides. The things we acquire with toil and pain are dearer to us, and we are more careful about keeping them: thus men who have enriched themselves by their own labours spend less than those who have received their riches from their parents or in any other way without labour. Now for the man who arises from sin it is most necessary that he be most careful to keep in the state of grace, which he carelessly lost by sinning. Therefore it is fitting that he suffer labour and pain for the sins he committed.