When he is late for dinner and I know he must be either having an affair or lying dead in the street, I always hope he's dead.
Judith ViorstControl cannot be called conscience until we are able to take it inside us and make it our own, until--in spite of the fact that the wrongs we have done or imagined will never be punished or known--we nonetheless feel that the clutch in the stomach, that chill upon the soul, that self-inflicted misery called guilt.
Judith Viorst