Quotes About Regret

Sunday morning, coming down.

Osborne said. "I miss Mom, though. That didn't have to happen. The guy who killed her . . . If I knew who it was, I'd think about killing him myself." "Not what you usually want to tell a couple of cops," Jenkins said. "Now if he gets run over by a car, people are going to be looking at your front bumper." "Okay, so I'll back over him," Osborne said.

the points of view of a lot of people I'd opposed at the start. That the Vietnam War was a waste

I think back to the day I stood before my wife's grave for the final time, and turned away from it without regret, because I knew that what she was was not contained in that hole in the ground. I entered a new life and found her again, in a woman who was entirely her own person. When this life is done, I'll turn away from it without regret as well, because I know she waits for me, in another, different life.

Ensign Davis thought, Screw this, I want to live, and swerved to avoid the land worms. But then he tripped and one of the land worms ate his face and he died anyway.

You're an interesting person, Jack. Sullivan said. I wish I could figure out what you were thinging when you punched Stern and turned on Isabel. Well, I think that's the thing. Holloway said. I think it's clear that sometimes I just don't think. I think you do. Sullivan said. It's just you think about you first. The not thinking part comes right after that.

Go ahead and eat all you want, but avoid excessively fatty foods, since one of these is going to tell your body to purge fats in a way that absolutely challenges normal sphincter control." "That's . . . not great." "It's a mess. Seriously, don't even think about trying to fart for the next eighteen hours. It's not a fart. You will regret it.

If knew you were going to drug me, kidnap me, and take me back to the dark ages with out my pants, I never would have slept with you.

Well, life is like that sometimes, Isabel said. We learn things too late, and then we don't get to use them.

You asked for help," Wilson said. I also tried to blow up your ship with you in it. "That was before you knew me," Wilson said. I'm sorry about that. "I'm not going to tell you not to be sorry," Wilson said, "but I can understand wanting to get your body back.

But then he tripped and one of the land worms ate his face and he died anyway.

She had the expression of the cat who ate the canary and then threw it up in her owner's favorite shoes.

at least a couple of these are going to make you feel ravenously hungry. Go ahead and eat all you want, but avoid excessively fatty foods, since one of these is going to tell your body to purge fats in a way that absolutely challenges normal sphincter control." "That's … not great." "It's a mess. Seriously, don't even think about trying to fart for the next eighteen hours. It's not a fart. You will regret it.

the sick horror of unwillingly picturing his child's death, the hollow, horrible ache standing in that place in his life where his daughter had been, and mad, acidic desire to do something more than mourn.

Let's still not ever do this again, Wilson said to himself. Agreed, himself said back.

Annie didn't reply, her own words about death reminding her of the terror that had consumed her when she dropped beneath the waves. In that blackness, she hadn't thought about those she loved, or of all that she'd done. On the contrary, she'd been reminded of what she hadn't done. And the fear of never doing such things had filled her with a longing she hadn't known.

What could I say? One doesn't tear up a large lenght of expensive silk into quite small pieces and drop them on the ground by mistake.

I can still tend the rabbits, George? I didn't mean no harm, George.

I ought to of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn't ought to of let no stranger shoot my dog.

You know most people live ninety per cent in the past, seven per cent in the present, and that only leaves them three per cent for the future.

You're buying years of work, toil in the sun; you're buying a sorrow that can't talk.

No gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love.

What I am mourning is perhaps not worth saving, but I regret its loss nevertheless.

Why do men like me want sons? he wondered. It must be because they hope in their poor beaten souls that these new men, who are their blood, will do the things they were not strong enough nor wise enough nor brave enough to do. It is rather like another chance at life; like a new bag of coins at a table of luck after your fortune is gone.