It kept piling up, like I said. So I got so I thought about it all the time. I hated myself more and more, thinking of all the wrong I’d done to the sweetest woman in the world who loved me so much. I got so I’d curse myself for a lousy bastard every time I saw myself in the mirror. I felt such, such, pity for her it drove me crazy. You wouldn’t believe a guy like me, knocked around so much, could feel such pity. It got so every night I’d wind up hiding my face in her lap, bawling and begging her forgiveness. And, of course, she’d always comfort me and say, “Never mind, Teddy, I know you won’t ever again.” Christ, I loved her so, but I began to hate that pipe dream. I began to be afraid I was going bughouse, because sometimes I couldn’t forgive her for forgiving me. I even caught myself hating her for making me hate myself so much. There’s a limit to the guilt you can feel and the forgiveness and the pity you can take! I mean you have to begin blaming somebody else! I mean it got so sometimes she’d kiss me it was like she did it on purpose to humiliate me.
-Eugene O’Neill, The Iceman Cometh
