Miserable little propitiators of a remorseless Idol, how abject we were to him!
I looked up with a flush upon my face and remorse in my heart, but Mr. Mell’s eyes were fixed on Steerforth.
I denounced myself as a remorseless brute and a ruthless beast.
But the agony of mind, the remorse, and shame I felt when I became conscious next day!
Howbeit, there was a general breaking up of the party, while the remnants of the dinner were being put away; and I strolled off by myself among the trees, in a raging and remorseful state.
Though I could almost have consigned her to the mercies of the wind on the topmost pinnacle of the Cathedral, without remorse, I made a virtue of necessity, and gave her a friendly salutation.
Mr. Micawber roused me from this reflection, which was blended with a certain remorseful apprehension of seeing Steerforth himself, by bestowing many encomiums on the absent Littimer as a most respectable fellow, and a thoroughly admirable servant.
We should have been at her mercy, if she had had any; but she was a remorseless woman, and had none.
He eyed her gloomily — remorsefully I thought — for an instant; and said, turning his head towards me, but looking at my feet instead of my face: ’We are not likely to encounter soon again; — a source of satisfaction to us both, no doubt, for such meetings as this can never be agreeable.
I was obliged to hurry away; I was kept out late; and I felt all night such pangs of remorse as made me miserable.
Long unused to any self-control, the piercing agony of her remorse and grief was terrible.
I sit down by the fire, thinking with a blind remorse of all those secret feelings I have nourished since my marriage.
…of never hearing myself speak — the fleeting intervals of something like cheerfulness, which came with eating and drinking, and went away with it — the setting in of rain one evening, with a fresh smell, and its coming down faster and faster between me and the church, until it and gathering night seemed to quench me in gloom, and fear, and remorse — all this appears to have gone round and round for years instead of days, it is so vividly and strongly stamped on my remembrance.
That I suffered much in these contentions, that they filled me with unhappiness and remorse, and yet that I had a sustaining sense that it was required of me, in right and honour, to keep away from myself, with shame, the thought of turning to the dear girl in the withering of my hopes, from whom I had frivolously turned when they were bright and fresh — which consideration was at the root of every thought I had concerning her — is all equally true.
There are no more uses of "remorse" in the book.
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There was no sign of remorse until the police caught her.